


Somewhere Only We Know

by ashamedbliss



Category: Muse
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempted Murder, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 37
Words: 112,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine if social classes were divided on one simple fact. One simple fact that could leave you as the lowest of the low, struggling to stay alive; or high and mighty, glorious and rich for the rest of your life. One simple fact. Can you sing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

_[Excerpt from Voix Academy of the Arts: Modern Civilisation for History VALQ, pages 135 to 138.]_  
  
 _“Their hair was like woven gold, yet those chosen few had hair as dark as ashes. It has been told that in lovemaking, they sing to their partner, yet one willing to admit this is yet to be found. Their most remarkable quality [...] is their voice, something heavenly amongst us mortals.”_

William Shakespeare, 1583

 **History of the Voix**  
  
Around 1500AV, historical texts began reporting the appearance of non-human beings in their midst.  
  
William Shakespeare was one of the only people to document the emergence of the Voix  _[phon: vwah]_  at this time, their presence going relatively undetected in the sparsely populated 1500s. However, when the oldest of all the colonies, Saint Pierre  _[phon: sahn pay-air]_ , began to form on coastline of the Mediterranean Sea in the 1800s, they had suddenly become noticed in society.  
  
King Louis XVI of France, a Voix himself, officially gave the Voix their title, using the French word for ‘Voice’. He also made it a law that Voix must be capitalised, with punishment of breaking this law being death by guillotine. It was around this time that those who were not Voix were named ‘glouglous’  _[phon: gloo-gloo]_ , the French word for ‘a gurgle.’ Although Voix communities have spread across the world, many of the major names derive from French, and Saint Pierre still remains the largest community of Voix. It must be noted, however, that for every one Voix there are about five glouglous.  
  
The origin of the highly derogative term ‘cassé’  _[phon: cas-say]_  is unknown. Meaning ‘broken,’ it is first reported to have been used in the late 1950s with the modernisation of the media and the first publications of Le Monde  _[phon: luh mohn-duh]_ , the main form of media in Saint Pierre to this day. Much more recently, glouglous have begun to use French slang terms to refer to the Voix, like ‘putain’  _[phon: poo-tan]_ meaning ‘whore’ and ‘chatte’  _[phon: cha-tuh]_  for another highly offensive word. Voix, interestingly, cannot understand glouglou swear words - they do not know the meaning of the English terms when used against them.

~~~

_“It was like a chorus of angels had descended from heaven, truly. There was no purpose in life, after that moment.”_

Claude Debussy, 1906

 **Les Voix du Monde**  
  
One of the most renowned celebrations of the Voix is ‘Les Voix du Monde,’  _[phon: lay vwah do mohn-duh]_ or the world famous choir. One hundred of the most talented Voix are selected from across the world, however there is a role more prestigious than being a member of said choir - being selected as a Unique _[phon: you-nee-que]_.  
  
There are four Uniques in Les Voix du Monde: two men and two women: one man and woman are from St Pierre, the other man and woman are from Dover, the second largest Voix community in the world. The period of being an Unique is undetermined, as mysteriously all previous Uniques, since the first was elected in 1921, have disappeared almost exactly two years since their initiation, unless they have relinquished their position to join La Vieillesse [see below].  
  
The selection and initiation process for Uniques is quite a lengthy yet vague one, although only one known restriction is in place: the candidate must be at least twenty years old. Once a Voix has been selected as a Unique, they go into a period of ‘hiding’, so-called by glouglous but formally known as Cachant by Voix, during which their hair must change from blond to black in order to successfully become an Unique. However, in the past, some potential Uniques (and certainly some of the best Voix) have emerged from hiding with blond hair, so the causes behind the hair colour change are unknown, or at least not of common knowledge.

_Above: a female and male Voix. Note their pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes._

~~~

_“The mere idea that the Voix are otherworldly - ethereal, even - is displayed quite clearly in the features of the extraordinary creatures. They move with lithe grace, with long limbs and pale, clear skin [...] and their hair, the colour of morning sunlight, stands out in every crowd. If there were to be a war between our species and theirs, we would most definitely be outnumbered and out-skilled. They are stronger, wiser and more talented than we [...] will ever be.”_

Charles Darwin, 1876

 **Voix Characteristics**  
  
The Voix have numerous qualities that differentiate them from glouglous. The most obvious is their singing voice, although evidently this is not obvious from their appearance. Pale skin is also a characteristic, along with others such as a soft speaking voice, a graceful gait and beautiful features.The most obvious visible characteristic is the hair colour; recreation of either colour by glouglous can lead to life imprisonment, although some people still attempt to do this. Another hair colour can be found in the oldest of Voix (for Voix are immortal, save for death by asphyxiation), which is white, or gold for the Anciens [see below]. Rumour is that when the hair of a Voix turns completely white, they are elected onto the Vieillesse  _[phon: vee-ay-ess]_ , otherwise known as the elders of the Voix.  
  
The Vieillesse governs the Voix world, and is run from the Château de Saint Pierre  _[phon: chat-oh de sahn pay-air]_. There are roughly 50 members, however there are two senior members; one male and one female, like the Uniques. Since 1984, these Anciens  _[phon: on-cee-en]_  have been Paix  _[phon: pay]_ , and Joie  _[phon: joy-ee]_ , who is the overall leader due to the matriarchal Voix society. The role of the Vieillesse is to rule over both the Voix and glouglou world, as the glouglous do not have their own government, however one of their most prestigious roles is the selection of the Voix. For the first time in over fifty years, at the time of this textbook going to press, both of the Unique placements were unfilled with suitable candidates awaiting selection for each.

_Above: a female and male glouglou. Note their darker hair and skin, and tattered clothing._

~~~

_“And when she cried out in the throes of passion, her voice was like that of an angel. Every day she became rounder [...] yet her baby eclipsed her light with its beauty many moons later.”_

Giacomo Girolamo Casanova de Seingalt, 1749

 **Voix Pregnancy**  
  
The topic of Voix pregnancy can be quite a complex one. The Voix believe strongly in sex only when in love, as opposed to sex before marriage which is frowned upon by glouglous. Alongside this belief, the Voix are also very strict on their view on sex: it should only be used for procreational purposes, as recreational purposes in the past have lead to Voix becoming distracted from singing or governing responsibilities. Therefore, contraception is not produced nor sold for Voix, although it can be found in certain glouglou communities. All Voix/glouglou relationships are banned, and the glouglou (and, in rare cases, the Voix) involved can be sentenced to death.  
  
Pregnancy is very similar to that of glouglous and lasts for nine months; many Voix women often giving birth nine months to the day of conception. The only noticeable difference is that the abdomen begins to swell much sooner in Voix pregnancy, often at 6 weeks compared to roughly 12 weeks in glouglous; although this is so the vocal chords in Voix can develop fully, it often leads to social problems as this is the first sign of pregnancy in Voix women.  
  
Contradictory to their strong beliefs in love before sex, the Voix have a strict attitude towards abortion. If it is believed that the child will not grow up with a loving set of parents, the foetus is normally terminated, and Voix babies are rarely born then given up for adoption.  
  
There have been rare but well documented reports of Voix males—  
  
 _[End of excerpt.]_


	2. Voix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning like any other suddenly becomes altogether unique when Matthew collides with something that will change his life forever…

Matthew rolled over in his plush bed, stretching all four limbs in opposite directions but was still unable to escape his thick duvet. His bedroom was permanently scented with the smell of the sea, the cries of seagulls audible out in the warm, dry air.

Blinking his eyes open, the teenager sat up in bed, blue eyes darting about the room as a smile spread across his face. One hand ran through his bright blond hair before pawing at his face and landing on his lap unceremoniously. From his now upright position, he could see that one of the maids had opened his curtains for him, the sunlight spilling across the thick carpet but not quite reaching the edge of his four poster bed.

Sighing, Matthew got out of bed and stood up, stepping into the sunlight which warmed his bare torso. He slowly padded out towards his balcony, readjusting the black boxers slung low on his hips.

The city was beautiful, as always. Blue sky stretched all the way to the horizon, just to meet the azure sea and span all the way back to the beach. Everything else, save for the palm trees, was white: white buildings, white sand, white skin. Matthew scratched absentmindedly at his too-pale stomach, pouting slightly.

“Good morning, Matthew!” a voice cried. Although, to say that it cried would be offensive; the greeting was, as expected from any Voix, almost _sang_  to Matthew.

“Good morning, Aleksandr,” Matthew cooed quietly in return, watching the blond man come into view. Again, _blond_  wasn’t a very descriptive factor when it came to the Voix.

“You’re in Voix Watch _again_ , Matthew,” the man on the street below grinned, before giving a wave and disappearing out of sight.

“Again?” Matthew mumbled to himself in complete disinterest, removing himself from the addictive heat of the sun to find his white dressing gown, slung over the back of the chair at his desk. His father would be thrilled, of course; Agostino took pride in every small step his son took towards becoming a Unique. Calliope, his mother, would be equally as proud; however, she didn’t feel the need to tell everyone, every single moment of the day.

Which is exactly what his father was doing as Matthew wrapped himself in his dressing gown, slowly walking downstairs.

“Didn’t you hear me, you _disgusting_  thing?! You think those  _rags_  are good enough for my son? He’s in Voix Watch, you know! He’ll be a Unique one day, and you’ll still be a  _filthy_  cassé.”

“Sir, if I may—”

“Get out of my sight before I throw you onto the street, boy!” Agostino bellowed, a figure scurrying past Matthew towards the cellar stairs as he entered the dining room.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Calliope said, kissing her son’s head in passing before settling into the comfy loveseat under the bay window, a book titled _La Vieillesse_ in her hand. Calliope was a kind woman, but also very meek; she never was one for getting involved in confrontation. Her white hair fell thickly in waves past her shoulders, yet her youthful features and shining blue eyes distinguished her from elderly glouglous by leagues.

“Morning, mother,” Matthew smiled, sitting down at the large glass table. Two instants later, a tiny maid appeared with his cooked breakfast in her hands, curtseying as she hurried off again.

“You could sound a bit happier than that, Matthew, you’re in Voix Watch again!” Agostino said, pushing his son’s much wanted food out of the way and throwing the newspaper down in its place. “They used the good photo, too.”

Agostino, however, was the complete opposite of his better half. The head of the Bellamy household was only a shade taller than his son, and it was evident that Matthew’s good looks were from Calliope’s side of the family. However, Agostino wasn’t known for his looks. He was a bully, first and foremost; his temper was one of the shortest of the Vieillesse, yet when he snapped, he’d manage to swing the argument in his favour. Always. Like a true bully, he felt the need to control everything, especially those things that he already owned. Of course, this included Matthew.

Matthew hummed his vague approval, eyes only brightening when they landed on a beautiful blonde woman on the next page, the girl most likely to be the next female Unique. Adora.

“I don’t think Adora’s been out of the paper for three months,” he remarked, extending one long finger to stroke across her perfectly captured cheekbone. “Not like I’m complaining, but it’s all rumours, isn’t it?”

Agostino nodded quickly, retrieving his paper to allow Matthew to eat his breakfast. “That they are, because at the end of the day the decision’s down to the Vieillesse.”

“And neither of you will give me even a scrap of information, will you?” Matthew asked, already fully aware of the answer.

“Nope,” his parents both chimed simultaneously, their son shaking his head and continuing to eat. Fork in his left hand, he began to drum his fingers lightly, an idea springing to mind.

“Father, I want to play piano,” Matthew stated calmly, not flinching as Agostino’s hand slammed down on the table.

“ _What_?!”

“Agostino,” Calliope warned quietly from the loveseat, however making no attempt at stopping Matthew’s request. What Matthew wanted, Matthew got.

“I said,” the son drawled, casually prodding a rasher of bacon with his fork, “that I want to play piano.”

The sound of a chair scraping across the marble floor finally was enough for Matthew to tear his eyes away from his plate. In a heartbeat, Agostino’s bright red face was up against Matthew’s, teeth gritted in fury. “I dare you to say that one… more… time…”

“Boys!” Calliope called, pushing Agostino away from Matthew with the threat still hanging heavy in the air. Her hand smoothed across her husband’s white hair, quietly singing to him as his fists unclenched from at his sides. Matthew finished the last of his breakfast, watching the very familiar scene out of the corner of his eye. He’d wait for his father to sit back down to explain his idea, and he’d watch the brightening of Agostino’s eyes as he realised that Matthew, of course, was a genius.

“Father, you didn’t let me explain,” Matthew said, pleading blue meeting with reluctant blue as the men stared at each other in a battle of dominance. “Tell those reporters that I’ve began to learn to play the wretched instrument, spout off something about wanting to connect with the cassés—”

“Language, darling.”

“—and then the Vieillesse might think better of me, without even touching the damn thing,” he finished, disregarding his mother’s interruption. This wasn’t his true opinion, of course, but this would please his father.

“And that is why I call you my son!” Agostino cried, pulling Matthew out of his chair and into an awkward, uncomfortable hug.

They never hugged. Agostino never truly showed emotion to anybody, except when it would give him the upper hand in the situation, or make Matthew feel like he was special (which, of course, he was). As well as liking to control the things he owned, Agostino also liked to take pride in the things he owned, although ‘taking pride’ could easily be replaced with ‘exploit’ and not one Voix would bat an eyelid. Such was Voix culture.

“Now, go get dressed, you’ve got a new song to learn today. I’ll call _Le Monde_ and tell them about the piano, plus they wanted to do a photo shoot of you and Adora, so go!”

Matthew rolled his eyes secretly, making his way back up the grand staircase. He didn’t _want_  to learn a new song, he didn’t  _want_ to pose for the photographers, not today at least. All he wanted was to simply spend the day with Adora, down on the beach or cloud watching in a sunflower field, something neither teenager had been able to do since being hinted for the Unique placements almost six months ago.

With that thought in his mind, he discarded his dressing gown on his bedroom floor (for a maid to pick up later) and sat down heavily on his bed, hand already outstretched for his white old-fashioned phone.

He dialled the well-learned number carefully, one pale digit pulling the circular dial around and humming the number to himself. Holding the receiver to his ear, he smiled at the sound of her voice at the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

It was soft like feathers; however that was expected of Voix voices. Adora had an even subtler undertone to hers, one that Matthew shared and something that made them a cut above the rest.

“Adora,” Matthew breathed, a smile spreading across his face as he relaxed back onto his duvet.

“Good morning, love,” she cooed, her smile evident in the sound of her voice. “How are you today?”

“Lonely,” the boy said after a few seconds of contemplation. “I miss you, I miss just spending time with you like we did when we were little.”

A comfortable silence passed between the couple, both minds flooding with images of their childhood spent up trees, in the sea, passing declarations of love in the form of classroom notes.

“I know,” Adora sighed, “but when we both become Uniques, we’ll have all of eternity to spend with each other.”

“Unless one of us doesn’t make it,” Matthew blurted without thought, slapping his forehead with the heel of his palm half a second later. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._

“Matthew!” the girl at the other end of the line scorned, yet her tone was still relatively light and playful. “Don’t even think about that!”

“But Adora,” he countered, uttering her name like that of a goddess, “we _have_  to think about that. We’ve been rumoured for six months and the Anciens haven’t even thought of acting on it. Plus, even if we both get selected, we have to survive initiation.”

“Hmmm.” Adora fell silent for a while, letting out sounds of contemplation which, to Matthew’s finely attuned ears, sounded angelic. “I suppose so,” she started slowly, finally. “I mean, we don’t know what the criteria for initiation is, but most Uniques have come out of it with their black hair. So…”

“So…”

Another silence fell between the couple, this one not so comfortable. Matthew listened to the sounds of his girlfriend’s quiet breathing through the receiver, analysing silently the difference between their relationship now and six months ago. To him, it felt so strained, so foreign that it was like they were living in another century. Like they were living different lives.

_“Matthew! Your song is here!”_

The sound of his father’s voice bellowing up the stairs caused him to drop the receiver, fumbling for it before holding it to his ear once more. “Adora? I have to go, Fleck has a new song for me. Should I call you later?” he asked, running a hand over his baby smooth chin as he did so.

“Maybe, I’ll see. Depends when Le Monde come for that next interview,” Adora said softly, sighing once more. _An angel breathing._  “I love you, Matthew. So very much.”

“ _Moi aussi,_ ” he said softly, a small smile on his lips as he heard Adora hang up. Replacing the receiver, he cursed under his breath at the lack of a shower and walked towards his huge wardrobe.

The none-too-extravagant rainbow of black, azure and white didn’t tempt him, the silks or the finest cottons not coaxing him into dressing in the slightest. Sighing, he picked out a pair of black, slim fitting jeans and a white button up shirt, finally discarding his robe to dress hastily to not keep his father waiting.

Jeans fastened, shirt buttoned up and midway through rolling the sleeves of said shirt to his elbows, Matthew glanced in his mirror, hurriedly combing through his light hair with his fingers.

 _Matthew!_ ”

“Coming!” Matthew shouted, a lilt carrying down the stairs where his father was surely pacing, awaiting his arrival. Finishing off the rolling of his sleeves, he skipped out of his room and down the stairs, at the bottom of which, surprisingly, Agostino was nowhere to be found.

“Matthew! Fleck and I are in the dining room,” a voice called. The blond sighed, eyes falling shut and fingers moving towards his temples as he made his way to the dining room, following a memorised path.

Until, that is, he collided with three mugs of coffee.

Eyes flashing open, Matthew was greeted with the sight of a _dirty_  glouglou before him, fixing the  _thing_  with a stone cold stare for two seconds before he screamed.


	3. glouglou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning like any other suddenly becomes altogether unique when Dom collides with something that will change his life forever…

A bleary ray of sunlight poked through the dull grey curtains, crossing over Dominic’s face and forcing his eyelids to peel back fully in disgust. He scowled at the offending light, sitting up in the creaking bed and attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. His mattress felt lumpy against his bare back as he stretched his legs to rid the cramping from his muscles. Dom swung his legs over the bed and stood up, stretching his arms above his head.  
  
“ _Jesus_ , Nicky, put some bloody clothes on.” A disgruntled mumble carried itself over to his ears, and peering across the room, he noticed for the first time that Nancy was awake. Staring blearily at him, his sister flopped onto her back and blinked at the ceiling. “Go on, while I’m not looking.”  
  
Dom curled his lips into a scowl. Flouncing over to the door, he placed his hand on the handle and, looking back over his shoulder, declared, “For the  _last_  time, don’t call me Nicky!”  
  
With that irate remark, Dom wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind him, but not loud enough to ignore Nancy’s final remark. “If you insist, Nicky!” she called, amused.  
  
The fact that at twenty years old, he was still forced to share not only a room, but a  _bed_  with his sister grated on his last nerve - but there was nothing else he could do other than complain, and where would that get him? He passed his parents’ tiny ramshackle room on the way to the bathroom, peering inside the former to see that both his mother and father were already up.  
  
“You going in the shower, lad, or are you just going to stand there like a lemon?”  
  
Dom turned around to squint at his mother, who was wearing an expression midway between amusement and exasperation. “Erm...”  
  
“Bloody hell, Dominic, what crawled into your ear and squashed your brains last night?”  
  
Mumbling something about the heat, Dom felt himself being carefully pushed aside as his mother slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Annie was a weather-beaten woman, short but slim with a freckled face and wrinkles at her cheeks from the smiles that had sat at her lips over the years. Her hair, sensibly cut and chestnut brown, was pulled behind her head into a ponytail, and as the bathroom door swung closed behind her, Dom could clearly hear her chuckles through the wood.  
  
Murmuring to himself, Dom trawled across the landing and, easing himself onto the stairs, he deposited his feet as lightly as possible. Wincing at the tremendous creak that sounded to him as if the whole house - in the loosest of terms - was going to fall apart, he slowly made his way downstairs, where his father was hidden behind a newspaper.  
  
“Morning, Dad,” Dom slipped past the rickety table and busied himself by pouring a glass of water.  
  
“Morning,” Fleck dropped the newspaper onto the table and grinned over at his son. “Sleep well?”  
  
“About as well as I could have done,” Dom shrugged, sitting down at the table and peering at the headline on the newspaper. “Hot last night, wasn’t it?”  
  
“Might have been, yeah,” Fleck shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and gestured at the newspaper. “Guess who’s on Voix Watch?  _Again_.”  
  
Dom didn’t even have to open the newspaper to know just whose face would be plastered over the eagerly gobbled-up nonsense known as Voix Watch. The newspapers sold out with their politically correct claptrap about which Voix had sung which incredible, benefit-to-society song.  
  
“He’d be nowhere without you, Dad,” Dom said confidently, flipping to the correct page where, as if by magic, the picture-perfect face of Matthew Bellamy stared back at him. Pale, pointy and so very  _blond_ , Matthew Bellamy was probably the most well known Voix of his generation, with his feminine grace and perfect voice. If it wasn’t for Dominic’s father, however, Bellamy would have nothing to parade his apparently godsent talent with. Fleck was Bellamy’s primary songwriter, and had almost singlehandedly written every song the beautiful blond had ever sung.  
  
It didn’t matter, though, if Fleck had been writing songs for the Queen of Sheba. Dominic and his family still lived in a rotting shell of a house in the middle of a thousand other rotting shells of houses, and although Matthew Bellamy owed his entire career to Fleck, nothing was ever going to change.  
  
Dom felt that hatred rise up in him once again, threatening to spill from between his lips in a flurry of curses and screams, and although his father wouldn’t have given a damn, his mother took that moment to arrive, somewhat dramatically, in their midst.  
  
“Morning,” she nodded in Fleck’s direction, passing Dom and fluffing his hair as she sidled into the cupboard-sized kitchen. “Toast, my darlings?” She batted her eyelids at husband and son, hands on hips.  
  
Dom nodded. Fleck grunted.  
  
“Make it yourselves then! I’m not your bloody slave, am I?” Annie folded her arms loosely, her eyes darting towards the door as Nancy stepped onto the threshold. “Morning, love.”  
  
Nancy strode across the rough wooden floor, standing behind her father and placing her hands on his shoulders. She peered over his head at the newspaper, tilting her head to the side. “Why is it that with every picture they take of him, he gets prettier?”  
  
Dom scowled over at his twin sister, his respect for her dropping a mile a minute. With every positive word she spoke about that sad excuse for a life, she was digging her grave a little deeper. Nancy had been born approximately six minutes before Dominic, and with that fact, she believed herself to be  _superior_  to him in every conceivable way. They looked the same - the same mousy blond hair that flicked out every which way, the same clear grey eyes and full, wide nose, the same soft, full lips and lightly tanned skin - but they couldn’t have been further apart. They had never been privy to that supposed sibling friendship, always trading insults but never playing together as children. They threw mud at one another and complained and cried and scrabbled and bit, but for as long as Dom could remember, they had never once hugged.  
  
“Have you heard this?” Fleck burst out suddenly, anger clear in his voice. He had turned ahead from Voix Watch, to read up on the story that had been reported on the front page. “‘A glouglou in Sector Three has been convicted of raping a Voix, who has not been named. The glouglou, Leaf 814425, has been sentenced to twenty years in prison. His only comment was, ‘That filthy  _pute_  had it coming for her; she deserved everything she got.’ The glouglou’s lawyer, Luke 20334, has made no comment.’”  
  
Fleck looked up, mouth hanging open. His eyebrows had risen so far up his forehead that they were in danger of disappearing behind his thinning grey hair. Fleck was a stout man, strong and thick-skinned, with old brown eyes and a heavily wrinkled face, and he was by far the bravest man Dom knew.  
  
“Don’t you remember Leaf?” Fleck continued, angrily beginning to rifle through the rest of the pages. “I used to know him at school - bugger wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why they’ve convicted him of  _rape_ , I’ll never know.”  
  
“What, you mean he didn’t do it?” Dom frowned. He pulled open a cupboard door and rescued a box of cereal, ignoring Nancy’s whining to make her a bowl too. “Then why would he be sent to prison?”  
  
“Because those bloody Voix bastards are trying to paint us in a bad light!”  
  
“I’ll not have language like that at my table,” Annie snapped, though a humorless smile tilted at her lips. “If you don’t have anything nice to say about the great and bountiful Voix empire, don’t say a damn thing, or you’ll end up with a noose around your neck or a dagger in your heart.”  
  
“I know.” Fleck sighed heavily, shaking his head at the newspaper. “It’s a shambles, this life, isn’t it? We do everything for them, and yet somehow they still manage to rule over us.”  
  
“Such is life,” Annie replied with a light shrug. “I remember Leaf. Mousy kid, he was, when I was at school.”  
  
“I don’t understand why he’d say anything like that quote,” Nancy peered over her father’s shoulder. “If he’s such a harmless man, why’d he call her a  _pute_?”  
  
“He didn’t call her a thing, love,” Fleck tilted his head back to smile sadly at his daughter. “They lie about us and people believe it.”  
  
Dom screwed up his nose, dumping the plastic bowl on the kitchen table and diving into his cereal with renewed vigour. Each small, round lump of wheat was another blonde Voix head, and he took special pleasure in crushing each individual between his teeth.  
  
“Hurry up, Dominic!” His mother’s voice brought him painfully back to earth, where she was staring at him with her hands on her hips again. “Your dad’s already getting ready and if you make him late for work again, your arse will be black and blue by the time I’m finished kicking it.”  
  
Hastily swallowing down the rest of his breakfast, Dom rushed through the kitchen to rinse the bowl before pelting back upstairs. A shower wasn’t an option now, and though he desperately wanted to stand under the cool water, he splashed his face and body with unfortunately lukewarm water from the taps and hoped it would suffice. This had been a regular occurrence as of late, but there simply wasn’t time to wait for the water to spit out of the showerhead and drown his worries, pulling them down the plughole.  
  
“Nicky, hurry up!”  
  
Sighing, Dom rubbed his face dry and unlocked the bathroom door, coming face to face with his angered twin. She was mirroring his mother’s pose exactly, right down to the scowl upon her face. “Dad says if you don’t hurry up he’ll boot you all the way to work,” she told him, firmly pushing him into the hallway and slamming the door shut behind her.  
  
Dom threw on a slightly crumpled plaid shirt and a pair of black jeans, shoving his feet into dirty sneakers and grabbing his faux-leather jacket from where he’d discarded it the night before. He’d owned this jacket since his sixteenth birthday and though the sad attempt at leather had worn away at the elbows and the zip stuck half way up, it was his most prized possession and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.  
  
He scampered downstairs where his father was just shrugging on a fleece, and together they said their goodbyes to his mother. After closing the door behind them, they began to walk through the densely populated slum that was their neighbourhood.  
  
The journey to the cramped office where Fleck worked was taken in silence; their talk of Leaf 814425 all but forgotten.  
  
Dom had been working with his father since the ripe age of fifteen, a year after he had left school. He barely did anything and was usually reduced to making pots of tea and coffee and reading through lyrics that his father had written. They were pompous, and usually spoke about the glory of the Voix or some other equally horrendous idea like  _love_ , but Dom knew that if Fleck even dared to submit something else, he’d be fired without a second thought. Any lyrics of anger or distress or sadness were strictly banned, and to write a song about any of these subjects was a sure-fire way to lose your job.  
  
Dom still remembered the emotions that had coursed through his veins like wildfire on the day that his parents had told him that he was not to be allowed to attend school any longer, and that he would have to find work to support the family.  
  
 _“Why can’t I go to school anymore?”_  
  
 _“We’re sorry, love, but we just don’t have the money to send you.” His mother sighed softly, while his father stood silent and impassive beside her._  
  
 _“Ash can still go!” Dom protested, arms folded across his chest._  
  
 _“Darling, that’s because Ash’s mum patented blonde hair dye for glouglous and they have money coming out of their ears.”_  
  
 _“But why can’t you pay for school?”_  
  
He winced at the memory now. He just hadn’t understood back then that whenever the Voix laid down a law, everyone had to comply, and it was a Voix law that glouglous were permitted to be educated until the age of fourteen. It was ridiculous. It was cruel. It was discrimination. And it was Voix.  
  
It took them what seemed like eons to finally make their way out of the slums. Dom could practically feel the change between poverty and riches, stepping onto the stark white pavement and almost being blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the surfaces. He suddenly felt under-dressed, as if he should have been wearing a suit. One or two of the Voix were up and about, gliding over the streets as if they were hovering a few inches from the ground. Dom kept his eyes at his feet, head down. The last time he’d made eye contact with a Voix, he’d been verbally assaulted; the offending blonde  _bitch_  had shrieked French obscenities at him for well over ten minutes while other Voix bustled about as if the scene playing out before them was none of their business. At least listening to her screaming at him had been pleasant. If angels cursed, Dom was sure that was what they’d sound like.  
  
“Penny for ’em?” Fleck grunted from beside Dominic, and Dom jerked out of his thoughts.  
  
“Oh. Just thinking,” he said vaguely.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
And they lapsed into silence once more.

*

Matthew Bellamy lived in an expansive house by the sea, and at first glance it was more of a castle than the mansion it proclaimed itself to be. It was pebbled with whitewashed gravel, and the only thing it was missing to resemble some kind of medieval fortress was a moat and a drawbridge. As they reached the rows of lilies which marked the entrance to Bellamy land, Fleck stopped just short of crossing over and sighed.  
  
“Dom, I want you to stay out of Mr. Bellamy’s way today, okay?” he said quietly.  
  
Dom nodded, well aware of his father’s speech. Every day he heard the same one, over and over again, and though he knew that his father was just trying to protect him, it still made him feel like he was being chided and treated like a child.  
  
“And if he, or Mrs. Bellamy, or Matthew, come anywhere near you, you move. You keep your head down. Don’t look at them, don’t smile at them, and please don’t ever talk to them, okay? Do as they say if they tell you to do anything, and for God’s sake, Dom, don’t do anything stupid. Promise me.”  
  
“I promise.” Dom said quietly.  
  
“Good lad.”  
  
They crunched their way up the gravel path, making their way along the branched path to the worker entrance. The house was furnished completely in white and Dom found himself squinting in order to stop himself from being blinded. He followed his father into the little room where they were designated to work every day. It was a cramped office, of course furnished in white, but mainly cheap plastic and flat-pack wood.  
  
“Right. I’ve got to go and deliver this song to Mr. Bellamy, but once that’s done it’ll be a slow day, alright?” Fleck said to Dom as he sat down at his desk. “Can you get us some coffee?”  
  
Dom grinned at the usual request from his father. “Like normal? Or shall I get some extras?”  
  
“A bit of sugar today, I have to face the boss,” Fleck laughed in reply to his son.  
  
With a smile, Dom slipped out of the office and made his way towards the kitchens, where he relayed his order to one of the cooks, Rory. She was a few years older than him, with cropped red hair and freckles over her nose and cheeks. They had dated for over six months. But that was then and this was now, and Rory was just a girl trying to make her way in life.  
  
“So how’s your mum doing?” Rory asked as she set the kettle to the boil. The  _white_ kettle, of course.  
  
“She’s great,” Dom smiled, scratching the back of his neck as he waited. “Rory...”  
  
Rory didn’t turn to face Dom, keeping her back to him as she shrugged. “Dom, whatever you’re going to say, just don’t, okay?”  
  
Dom’s mouth snapped shut. Rory looked tired, ridiculously so. Her face was thinner and paler than the last time he’d seen her, and her clothes looked worn. She was working herself to death - but then again, so was everyone. Everyone except the Voix.  
  
She handed him a tray laden with two cups that were filled with steaming hot coffee, with pots of sugar and milk. “Thanks, Rory,” he said quietly.  
  
She nodded, sticking her hands into her pockets. “No problemo, sweetness. Now hurry up before I kick you square between the cheeks. And not the face cheeks, either.”  
  
 _Why is everyone threatening to kick me up the arse today?_  Dom wondered as he sidled out of the bustling kitchen and into the quiet of the hallways. He stepped carefully, keeping his eyes directly ahead of him. It would be just his luck to trip over his laces and fall flat on his face.  
  
So it was a surprise to him, then, when something substantially larger than his laces fell into him and knocked him to the floor. A face full of burning hot coffee was all that met him, and as he rolled onto his back to rub the scalding liquid out of his eyes, he saw a blurry shape looming above him. He held his breath, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t—  
  
The figure above him let out an ear-piercing scream.  
  
 _Shit._


	4. excellence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Dominic faces the terrible consequences of a situation that wasn't his fault, Matthew is forced to realise the difference between his own desires and his father's...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations found at the end of the chapter

“ _Putain de merde! Qu'est ce que vous croyez faire?! Ouvrez les yeux et regardez où vous allez, espèce d'imbécile! Allez vous faire foutre_!” The Voix standing above Dom stopped his screaming, only to inhale and shriek, “Father!”

Dom winced, covering his ears with his hands and trying to block out the ear-splitting noise. It was midway between torture and heaven. As soon as the boy above him had finished ranting, though, a new voice broke through.

“Matthew! Whatever was all that swearing—”

Agostino Bellamy didn’t finish his sentence. He stood, gaping, at the end of the hallway, surveying the scene before him. Both his son and an unfamiliar boy were soaked in coffee, broken bits of mugs and a discarded tray littering the formerly white carpet. The glouglou looked like he was about to cry through sheer fright, yet the Voix looked like he was about to cry out of sheer anger.

“Dining room. Now.” Agostino snapped, pointing down the corridor. His jaw set, Matthew stepped lightly over Dom and marched down the hallway, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Dom shifted under Agostino’s gaze, not sure whether the command was for him as well as Matthew.

“Go!” Agostino barked. Dom swallowed down his urge to turn and run in the opposite direction, instead heaving himself up from the floor and trooping after Matthew into the dining room, which was probably bigger than his entire house. The table was ridiculously long, and Matthew was standing behind one of the tall-backed seats, picking bone china from his shirt. His eyes flicked up at Dom as he entered, lips a straight line.

The last thing Dom wanted to do was appraise Matthew Bellamy, but being in such close proximity to him was equal parts terrifying and intoxicating. He radiated a strong, powerful air, clearly something he’d inherited from his father. His eyes were dark and serious, and as sharp as flint. Try as he might, Dom couldn’t stop staring. Despite the fact that coffee was splattered over his clothes and pale skin, the smell of lavender still clung to Matthew.

“What are you looking at?” Matthew hissed, and Dom blinked himself back in control of his body.

“Sorry.” He dropped his eyes to the floor just as Agostino thundered into the room and straight over to Matthew.

“What happened?” he demanded instantly of his son. “If I have to hear those crass words coming out of your mouth again…” He left the threat unfinished, rocking back on his heels.

“That…” Matthew’s mouth opened and shut several times as he attempted to collect his thoughts, and avoid spitting out any words that might upset his father even more. “ _That_ just blundered into me and spilled… what is this? _Coffee_ … all over me!”

Dom gritted his teeth, trying his best not to reach for Matthew and tear his head off, or, at the very least, keep his mouth closed and not say anything at all. Their precious son really was an insufferable creature. That wasn’t the way it went. He had been walking; Matthew had walked into him. It was surprising to Dom that the Voix hadn’t been carried around the house in case his feet dare touch the ground.

“And as for _you_ …” Agostino rounded on Dom, who shrunk back further into his proverbial shell, begging for his own father to rush into the room and rescue him. “What is your name, boy?”

“D-Dominic,” Dom managed to squeak. He chanced a brief look at Matthew - anything to avoid Agostino’s eyes - who was staring at something, his eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly to the side.

“That is _not_ the name of a cassé,” Agostino seethed. “What is your number?”

“815231184,” he said, trying not to let the derogatory term hurt him further.

Recognition flared in Agostino’s eyes and Dom wished that he’d had the foresight to recite another number, a meaningless number.

“Fleck’s son,” Agostino breathed, more to himself than the curious audience in the room. The heavy air had barely descended before the war cry of “Fleck!” echoed through the room.

Footsteps - running footsteps - were heard in the corridor outside, before a dishevelled and confused looking Fleck entered the room, bowing his head slightly upon noticing that Matthew was also present. However, as he raised his head again and surveyed the scene completely, his eyes widened with curiosity, fright and fear.

“This…” Agostino started, gesturing to Dom. “This is your son?”

Wordlessly, Fleck nodded, eyes flickering between the older Voix and the son in question. Two very different fathers, two very different sons.

“And you named him _Dominic_?” The tone was incredulous, a bad taste on Agostino’s tongue.

Again, Fleck nodded, although this time more to the floor than to any of the company present.

“Hmm.” For now, it seemed, that line of questioning had dried up. “Do you know what happened here, Fleck? Could you possibly even just _guess_ what your _cassé_  did here?” The slur was hissed, and Fleck’s molars ground together in silent hatred.  _No one_ had the right to refer to his son as something broken. However, his more rational side operated his tongue.

“No, sir, I don’t.”

“Well,” Agostino drawled in a tone that Fleck would’ve been annoyed at, if it hadn’t have been the tone of a Voix, of course. “It seems like 815231184 Junior had a run in with Matthew—”

“He attacked me!”

“Now Matthew, don’t get carried away here, son. Whatever happened before your stream of curses, the damage has been done and it will, of course, need repairing.”

Fleck sighed. He knew what was coming, he’d heard about it from other glouglous. He stood rigid, eyes still trained on the floor as he awaited the bad news.

“Firstly, Matthew will need a new shirt. That’ll be about, hmm… £500?”

Agostino looked to Matthew, the younger Voix nodding his blond head. Dom and Fleck met each other’s gazes for the first time since the incident, both pairs of eyes shining with fear. Dom’s own punishment from his father could wait until later; nothing mattered for the moment except for the fact that the sum of money mentioned was two month’s rent on their house. _Five hundred pounds for one shirt…_

“That white carpet out there will need completely replacing, probably totalling about £1,500 in all,” Agostino continued, well aware that after seeing the damage, the stain could simply be removed with some fancy chemicals. However, he was intent on ensuring that these glouglous had learnt their lesson.

“And of course, we’ll need brand new mugs—”

“Can’t we just have him hanged, father?”

As Matthew’s bored question left his lips, Dom whimpered almost silently, but not silently enough to go undetected. Matthew’s eyes flashed up to his, furious blue clashing with wide grey for half a second until Dom broke away, staring at the tips of his shoes and swallowing hard.

Dom was truly terrified, because in that half a second he’d seen that Matthew hadn’t been joking.

“No, son,” Agostino laughed; he actually _laughed_. “No, they need to redeem themselves.” Turning from his son, the smile vanished from his face. “Look at me,” he commanded, Fleck’s eyes rising from the floor and meeting the unreadable blues of Agostino.

“For your son’s mistake, I will no longer be paying him, although he is still employed, under contract, to work in this household. His wages will therefore pay for the damages.” Agostino paused, but the sick feeling in Fleck’s stomach told him there was more to come. There was.

“For your blatant failure in teaching your son about treatment of the Voix, of the next  _Unique_ , I will be halving your wages.” Fleck couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his lips. Dominic’s wages weren’t a huge problem, as he wasn’t the breadwinner, but halving Fleck’s wages meant that without financial support, his family would go hungry for at least the next two months.

“That’s it?!”

Fleck and Dom both, unknown to the other, ground their teeth at Matthew’s interjection. Muttering under his breath, _the next Unique_  stormed out of the room in a manner only a Voix could pull off.

“I don’t think Matthew is too happy about the situation, so I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day,” Agostino warned, his caution a surprisingly polite but barely hidden command of “get out of my house.”

Fleck opened his mouth to speak but remained silent, not continuing until Agostino gave him a tight nod. “Sir, if I may, the song—”

“Oh, _this_?” Agostino walked to the end of the table, where Matthew’s new song had been delivered just before the coffee incident had taken place. Between two long fingers, a frail piece of paper was suspended dangerously. Dangerously, as such, because the Bellamys requested that each final score was to be handwritten, each crochet and semibreve and treble clef carefully inked onto the paper. The process took hours, days even.

Fleck nodded slowly, mouth drying up as he saw the glint in Agostino’s eyes.

The Voix pouted, a trait that his son had taken quite a liking to, as he perused the paper. Days could’ve slipped by and the glouglous wouldn’t have cared, because they were watching the slow motion car crash of Agostino’s revenge. They were the slow motion car crash of Agostino’s revenge.

Fleck knew there was no mistakes on there. He knew that the score in question was perfect. Beyond perfect. Perfectly perfect.

“I don’t like it, so neither will Matthew.”

And that, was that. Agostino watched his employees’ faces crumble as he nimbly ripped the paper in two, and continued doing so; sending dozens of scraps of paper fluttering to the floor. With a truly evil smile, he left the room, Fleck and Dom numbly staring after him.

*

The walk back home that morning was painful, to say the least. Every step closer to the shack Dom liked to call their house, closer to Nancy and his mother, was sending shocks right through his body, to a headache right between his eyes. To make matters worse, the disappointment radiating from his father was almost too much to bear. He wanted to grab Fleck by the shoulders and tell him, _scream_ at him, that it wasn’t his fault, none of it was. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. With a sick, twisted feeling in the pit of his stomach, he resigned to keep his mouth tight shut.

Eventually they arrived back home, but even without confirmation from the other, they both simply stood at the door and stared at it.

“Don’t say a word to your mum,” Fleck mumbled. “I’ll explain it to her. Just go straight to your room.”

Dom nodded mutely, pushing the door open and stepping inside the house. His throat was dry. He watched his father sidle hang up his jacket in the kitchen, calling for his mother. Dom could have gone to his room, but as soon as he heard his mother’s surprised voice, he knew that he couldn’t sit there and _wait_. So he scrambled to the top of the stairs and, feeling distinctly like a child listening in on his parents’ arguing, he sat and listened.

“…you doing home so early?” his mother asked. “Half day?”

“Listen, Annie, something happened at work today,” Fleck’s voice was grave, and Dom found himself holding his breath as he listened. “And I swear to you, it wasn’t Dom’s fault, but…”

“What are you doing?” a voice said, quite conversationally, from behind him. “Aren’t you meant to be at work?”

“Shut up,” Dom hissed, looking over his shoulder, where Nancy had settled herself behind him, her legs crossed.

“Well that wasn’t very nice!” Nancy pouted. “I’ll just keep talking if you say things like that to me!”

“Seriously, Nancy, I’m going to--”

Dom had expected screaming. He had expected shouting and he had expected arguments lasting hours, but the one thing he hadn’t expected was hearing his mother cry. Both siblings fell silent when they heard it ringing through the empty house louder than a church bell. Soft, pained sobs. The worst thing Dom had ever heard.

“What did you _do_?” Nancy whispered, and at that moment Dom could have pushed her down the stairs.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Nancy,” he snapped, standing up and practically falling downstairs in his haste to get to the kitchen. He didn’t know what he was going to do. Fall at his mother’s feet, begging for her to forgive him. The guilt was making him feel physically sick. It was his stupid fault that all of this was happening.

No. No it wasn’t.

The face of Matthew Bellamy drifted into his mind and, seized by blind rage, he ran into the kitchen and was greeted with a sight he’d never really wanted to see.

Annie was sitting at the table, holding her head in her hands and her body shuddering with the strength of her sobs. Fleck was rubbing her back, eyes flashing Dom a warning before turning back to his wife, telling complete lies about how they’d cope, how they’d come out from this as a stronger family, how a second job wouldn’t interfere with his first.

All the anger in Dom’s veins washed away, like coffee being poured down the drain.

“Mum, it wasn’t my fault.”

Sighing, his mother raised her head to meet Dom’s eyes. Her normally cheerful smile had been replaced with something alien, an expression that was a sum of all the traumas and tragedies they’d lived through, they’d survived through. Surely they’d survive this one too, wouldn’t they?

“I know, Dom,” she replied quietly, sitting up and tucking her hair back behind her ears. “I know,” she repeated, more to herself than anyone else.

“He said he wanted me _hanged_.”

“Come here, baby,” Annie said, beckoning Dom towards her. Tentatively, he stepped closer, until he was in reaching distance and suddenly wrapped up by his mother’s arms. “It’ll be okay, love. We’ll just work harder, we’ll get it sorted. Insufferable twat doesn’t know who he messed with,” Annie laughed in a half-hearted joke, although the air remained still and tense.

As Dom watched his family come undone around him, for once in his insignificant, _broken_ life, he knew what it was like to truly hate someone.

*

Matthew sat in the music room, perched on the edge of a high stool as he watched the scene in front of him. After changing his shirt (which, in all honesty, he’d never really liked anyway), he’d been called into the room to practice one of the most well known Voix songs of all time, ready for a performance with Les Voix du Monde in a couple of months.

Agostino was, as always, chastising a glouglou; this certain glouglou being Matthew’s regular piano player and accompanist, Maggie. After telling her that her playing wasn’t up to scratch today (even when she hadn’t touched a single ivory), Agostino had pulled her towards him, in a motion dangerously close to a grope. But who was Matthew to pass judgement? Glouglous, in his father’s eyes, were simply playthings, objects to be abused.

“Master Bellamy, if I may, can we start with some simple octaves?” Maggie asked, hands folded tidily in front of her as she addressed him. Agostino loitered when he normally would have left, for once wanting to hear Matthew’s practice. The younger Voix sniffed.

“Of course,” Matthew replied, smoothly slipping off the stool and into a standing position, taking deep breaths. The pianist ran her fingers up and down an octave, repeating the middle C a few times for good measure. Matthew cleared his throat.

“ _Do ré mi fa so la si do, si la so fa mi ré do_ ,” he started quietly, each note resonating clearly and beautifully in the small music chamber. Another turn at the same octave, and then the pianist raised the pitch.

“ _Do ré mi fa so la si_  do _! Si la so fa mi ré do_ ,” Matthew sang, the higher C falling in his vocal range but becoming a push. The next octave, as he always found, was a struggle. He’d only ever been able to hit an easy high C when he was a boy.

“Do ré mi fa so la si do—”

The piano continued without him, before stopping as it reached the end of the octave. He hadn’t made the note.

_He hadn’t made the note._

“Matthew, _what_  was  _that_?”

“Sorry, Father—”

“ _Sorry_?! You don’t hit a high C and all you can say is  _sorry_?! Again, Maggie.”

Matthew could hear the Agostino was barely getting started on his fury, pent up evidently from the incident earlier that morning. Clearing his throat, the octaves resumed from the middle C, working their way back up to the high C that Matthew had missed. This time, though, he hit it perfectly.

Of course, that was never enough for Agostino.

_“Higher, Matthew!”_

_“Louder, louder, they need to hear your voice!”_

_“Mon Dieu, Matthew, if you don’t get this right next time…”_

After the fiftieth octave, Matthew waved at Maggie, slumping back onto his seat. For the first time since his voice had broken years ago, his throat actually _hurt_.

“Father, I can’t, my throat—”

“No Voix ever has a sore throat. No Voix ever gives up. That’s the job of a glouglou. You want to be a Unique, Matthew? Or do you want to be a failure, a glouglou, just like those cassés I broke earlier?”

Images of the dishevelled men crept into his mind, the younger Voix blinking them away before answering. “Unique,” he whispered.

“Then you need to _work_  for it,  _mon fils_.  _Solfège_ ,  _encore_!”

Maggie’s fingers touched the keys again, one octave of warning before Matthew accepted his task and worked through the pain. As he practiced, he already knew his father wouldn’t permit him to go to lunch until he had performed the song flawlessly at least ten times.

Sometimes, Matthew really wondered who wanted to be an Unique more: him or Agostino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
>  _"Putain de merde! Qu'est ce que vous croyez faire?! Ouvrez les yeux et regardez où vous allez, espèce d'imbécile! Allez vous faire foutre!"_ \- "Fucking hell! What do you think you're doing? Open your eyes and watch where you're going, you idiot! Go fuck yourself!"
> 
>  _"Mon fils"_ \- "My son"
> 
>  _"Solfège, encore!"_ \- "Scales, again!"


	5. gueux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominic and his family meet the absolute _delight_ that is Lysander...

It was almost two weeks since the infamous incident, and those two weeks had not passed smoothly. Dom and his parents had seen the interior of almost every solicitor’s office in their sector, and no matter how many different desks they sat at, no matter how many times they mentioned the name Bellamy, the answer had always been a resounding  _no_. Though the solicitors often sugar-coated their predicament, it was clear that they all thought the same.  
  
 _You won’t get out of that hole alive._  
  
So, what greeted Fleck and his son when they walked in the door of their shack almost two weeks after the infamous incident was quite a treat, at least for the younger man. The scent of carrots, potatoes, onions and, if he wasn’t mistaken,  _chicken_  assaulted Dom’s senses, the glouglou’s eyes wide in surprise and confusion.  
  
Dom turned to his father, brows furrowed as he attempted to puzzle through the situation, but Fleck was avoiding his gaze. “Dad...” Dom said slowly, but Fleck pushed a persistent hand against his back and gently steered him towards the kitchen table.  
  
“Hurry up, before it gets cold,” his father said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nevertheless, Dom pulled out the chair and sat down, staring at the steaming bowl of chicken and vegetable soup with suspicion clear on his face. His mother was busying herself with glasses of  _orange juice_ ; Nancy had flopped down beside him a few seconds ago and was already ladling soup into her bowl. Dom glanced again at the table, at the corporeal vegetables and chunks of juicy chicken and the unbelievably real loaf of crusty bread on the chopping board.  
  
“What’s going on...?” he asked, his voice trailing off though he had nothing more to ask. His question was simple enough. They were scraping by; there was a leak in the bathroom ceiling that hadn’t been fixed for months, they were behind on the rent and they were in a huge amount of debt thanks to a certain self-obsessed Voix. How they were able to afford vegetables that weren’t onions - never mind chicken - was a mystery to him.  
  
Fleck sat down at the head of the table, as usual, and gave Dom a pointed look. “Just eat,” he said firmly, his tone a clear indication that the conversation was at an end before it had begun.  
  
“Guess what?” Nancy suddenly burst out, her spoon dropping to the table with a clatter. Everyone turned to look at her, and, swallowing down what was apparently excitement, Nancy continued in a wavering voice, “You know the party this Saturday?”  
  
Dom’s eyes dropped back to his soup. He shifted in his seat, a familiar wave of painful hatred shooting through his body. It was Matthew Bellamy’s ‘birthday party’ on Saturday, and as a result, virtually the entire population of the planet had been press ganged into celebrating it. Street parties were being organised all over town and Dom had been forced to attend the one on his local main street; the last thing he wanted to do was spend a day where everyone was singing Bellamy’s praises, but he couldn’t sulk at home.  
  
Reluctantly, he glanced up again, to where Nancy was excitedly murmuring that Ben 4876034 from two doors down had asked to go with her. Dom assumed it was of some kind of importance to her, but he couldn’t exactly work out what. Then again, he wasn’t well-versed in the literature of women, much less his sister’s particular novels.  
  
“Who’s he again, the one with the reddish hair?” his mother was asking, almost as excitedly as Nancy herself. His sister nodded, giggling and placing a hand to her mouth. Dom swivelled his eyes to his father and pulled a face; Fleck shrugged in reply, a light smile at his lips.  
  
“He’s  _gorgeous_  though,” Nancy was gushing, eyelashes fluttering as she spoke. As Dom ripped off a chunk of bread and dipped it into his soup, an oddly satisfied mood stole over him. His mother was laughing, the corners of her eyes crinkled once more; it didn’t matter that on Saturday he would have to endure a full day of Matthew, because his family was happy. He could forget about debts and leaks and rents for that evening and simply imagine what it would be like to live a normal life.  
  
And then someone knocked on the door.  
  
They all turned to it simultaneously, frozen where they sat. Nancy’s voice trailed off mid-sentence; Dom found himself staring at the door with the bread stuffing his mouth. He swallowed hard, turning to his father, who stood up and inched his way to the door. They never had visitors. The last time someone had knocked on the door, it had been to take the census, and that was almost ten years ago now.  
  
Before Fleck had the chance to reach the door, however, an overly chirpy voice sounded through the cheap wood. “‘Ello? Anybody ’ome?” the voice sung quite happily, lilting and fluent in its tones.  
  
“Mum, who--?”  
  
“Keep your mouth  _shut_ , Dominic,” Annie said, iron in her voice. Dom’s mouth obediently closed; he glanced at Nancy, who seemed just as clueless as he was. He turned back to the door, watching as his father hesitantly pulled it open. A man with a head of slick white-blond hair, a proud, jutting chin and glinting blue eyes stood grinning in the doorway.  
  
“Evenin’, Fleck, me old chum!” the man said, raising a hand to his forehead in a loose salute. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped over the threshold, gently sliding past Fleck and walking with confident, long strides over to the kitchen table. “Nice place. Very ’omely.” He said, walking in a slow circle around the table and stopping directly behind Nancy. He crouched low, pressed his lips close to her ear and whispered, “‘Ello, darlin’.”  
  
Dom’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Get your hands off my sister,” he snarled.  
  
The Voix looked over at him, an amused smile on his face. “Calm your passions, pretty boy,” he said smoothly. He stood up again, though his hand lingered against Nancy’s neck. Dom gritted his teeth but said nothing more; after glancing at Nancy, who shook her head with a barely perceptible movement at his questing looks, he decided that it was best to keep his voice down.  
  
“Lysander,” Fleck said coldly, braving a look into the Voix’s stunning blue eyes. Although he didn’t act or sound like one, Lysander was still a Voix and, technically, should be respected like one. His work, however, wasn’t really that respectable in the first place. “You said just yesterday that we wouldn’t meet for two weeks.”  
  
“Ah, that I did say, but what’s stoppin’ me from poppin’ ‘round for a cuppa every now and then, ey? Plus, I’ve got payment to collect,” Lysander suavely said, giving an easy smile to the confused, stunned and frightened faces around the table.  
  
“But I don’t owe you any money at the moment!” Fleck protested, the muscles bunching in his arm. Dom knew it was a telltale sign that he was restraining from banging his fist against the wood of the table.  
  
“I never said I wanted money, did I?” Lysander shot back, his voice deep and deadly serious. “Maybe I’ll be taking my payment in other forms...” As his sentence trailed off, the Voix brushed his knuckles against the nape of Nancy’s neck, the glouglou pressing her lips hard against each other and blinking rapidly.  
  
“Don’t you  _dare_  touch my daughter!”  
  
“Fine! But I’m needin’ twice last week’s payment by tomorrow.”  
  
“You know I can’t do that,” Fleck pleaded, begging with his eyes.  
  
“Then I take the girl,” Lysander said quietly, hand slipping around to stroke the front of Nancy’s neck. To Dom, it looked more like a chokehold than a caress. Suddenly, he found his voice.  
  
“Just  _what_  is going on here?!”  
  
Lysander removed his hand from Nancy’s skin completely, a sigh of relief audible in the tense room. Quirking his head, the Voix stepped away from Dom’s twin before approaching him. “Ah, Dom. The ringleader in this debauchery.”  
  
“What are you even--”  
  
“Dominic, do  _not_  make this difficult,” Annie warned.  
  
“Ah, he’s not makin’ anythin’ difficult, love,” Lysander said, Annie barely suppressing a shiver under his gaze. Turning his attention back to Dom, Lysander tipped the younger man’s chin up with two fingers. “Poor little Dom. Too young to know anythin’, ain’t ya?” He gave Dom’s cheek a light slap before straightening up, beginning to walk around the kitchen table once more.  
  
“I recall that you got into a spot of trouble coupla weeks ago, am I right? I’m right,” Lysander said, not allowing anyone to even breathe a response. “I, Lysander Fletcher, financial aide to the gods - and to the Bellamys,” he added in a stage whisper to no one in particular, “jumped to your rescue, where no sane or legal solicitor woulda jumped.”  
  
“I still--”  
  
“See all this nice food here, lad? Yup, that’s my work. Bloke coming to fix that leak in that bathroom of yours next Tuesday? Yup, that’s my work. The fact that you’re all still alive is my bloody work. All I ask for in return is my money... and my interest, set at  _my_  rates.”  
  
“Is that even legal?!” a different, shrill voice cried.  
  
“Annie...” Fleck warned, Dom noticing that his father’s head was now held in his hands, fingers pulling at strands of hair.  
  
“Darlin’, let’s remember who I am. I’m a Voix, you’re a glouglou. Doesn’t matter what you think, sweetheart, ‘cause I  _am_  the judge, jury and executioner.”  
  
With that, Lysander’s hand returned to Nancy’s neck.  
  
A chill silence fell across the room. Annie was biting her nails, gaze fixed on her daughter, who was sitting bolt upright and completely still as Lysander traced her collarbone with two long fingers, her eyes glazed over and evidently trying to detach herself from the situation.  
  
If there was any sort of telepathic link between twins, Dom certainly didn’t need it now. He could feel Nancy’s fear in the air, hear her hammering heartbeat, he could see her predicting her father’s next words correctly.  
  
Fleck inhaled deeply, raising his head only to rub at his temples with his fingers. “What sort of interest is this, Lysander?” he breathed, voice cracking.  
  
“I’ve got a few mates,” Lysander began, a sob breaking free from Annie’s chest as he paused. She knew what was coming; they all knew what was coming, yet they accepted it just as you’d accept the end of the world - wide eyed and watching. “And boy, do they love a good girl. A pretty girl, nice pair of eyes, nice pair of...” Lysander had the decency to cough before continuing. “Well, you see, they get bored of the Voix girls. They’re all too prissy, them. All too needy and  _clingy_. We like a girl who can think for herself... a girl who has a bit of fight in her.”  
  
One fat tear rolled down Nancy’s cheek, and as she jerkily wiped it away, Lysander’s hand fell from her body and back to his side.  
  
“Do I even get a say in this?” Nancy whispered, more to herself than anybody else. Everybody heard her, yet no one had the heart to respond.  
  
Well, no one with a heart had the heart to respond.  
  
“If you had a  _say_ , princess, you wouldn’t be a cassé,” Lysander sneered, giving the rest of the room a carefree lopsided smile before promptly turning and leaving the room, slamming the door shut behind him.


	6. escroquerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night before Matthew's birthday and an overheard conversation leads to some startling revelations about his father...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end of the chapter

Matthew was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. Insomnia seemed to curse him right through into the early hours of the morning, when he would finally be lulled into a short but deep sleep.

He’d had quite a busy day, too. The morning had been spent with Adora, who would be visiting again the next day for to finish off the decorations for his party and to wish him happy birthday, of course.

Matthew groaned, rolling onto his side and curling up into a ball. He didn’t want to think about his party, or even his birthday. Normal nineteen-year-olds turning twenty would have a small family affair, with a few choice gifts and a little vanilla cake, which he would have tomorrow morning. Normal nineteen-year-olds turning twenty didn’t have an additional party, where the whole town closed down for a weekend as part of a massive festival, with offerings from every Voix in St Pierre and a cake the size of the fountain in the main square.

Of course, it hadn’t been Matthew’s idea. All the  _good_  ideas were Agostino’s.

The Unique-to-be wasn’t looking forward to the celebrations, but he was certainly looking forward to his actual birthday. The Vieillesse had decreed recently that Uniques had to be over the age of twenty, and seeing how Adora was already nearly twenty-one, Matthew just needed to pass this birthday and then he would be selected to be a Unique. He was  _sure_  of it. Agostino had reminded him every day that they were just waiting for them both to be of age, that they wanted them to be selected at the same time, as a couple.

Matthew flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, one hand on his flat stomach. He sighed, a breeze blowing through his open window and shifting his curtains slightly, but also carrying unintelligible murmurs into his otherwise silent room. Sitting bolt upright, he narrowed his eyes to thin slits and scooped his legs over the side of the bed, walking slowly towards his balcony and ignoring the cold wind attacking his bare chest. The sound of two voices talking below him intensified in volume. He frowned, crouching down to the floor and straining his ears.

“...calm yourself, boss, it’s all going to plan! Nobody’s dead, are they, ey?” said a voice, male and most definitely chirpy, but with an edge of strain to it.

“The point, Lysander, is not whether people are  _dead_  or not.” Matthew recognised this voice as his father’s almost immediately. “You are supposed to be taking care of my money and quite frankly all you’ve succeeded in doing so far is making yourself appear to have the IQ of a cassé.”

“Hold up, guv, no need for that kinda talk, is there? I’m only tryina get a grip on the positives!”

Matthew’s father sighed exasperatedly. “If you’re just handing out  _my_  money to cassés dotted about St. Pierre, I hardly think there are any positives. Who have you been lending to?”

“Let me see,” Lysander’s voice drifted off, and then resumed quite happily. “There was 29388432, 38422393, 815231184--”

“815231184?” Matthew’s father’s voice was thin and sour as he repeated the number. Matthew blinked, one hand curling around the iron railing on the balcony as he thought. The notion of his father lending and laundering money was entertaining, but when he ran the thought through his head once, twice, three times, it started to make sense.

The Bellamys were rich, and even that was an understatement. It would make sense, in a roundabout way, if Agostino lent money then claimed back ridiculous amounts of interest. However, what confused Matthew the most was the fact that he recognised that number. He screwed up his nose, listening harder.

“Yep. 815231184. Why?”

“You do realise that 815231184 is a family that is incapable of paying back that rent, don’t you?”

“Don’t you worry about it, boss. Daughter’s a looker. I told them she’d come right in ‘andy with some of my friends, they love a good--”

“I don’t  _want_  their daughter, Lysander, I want my money!”

Agostino was shouting now, and Matthew shrunk back onto the balcony unconsciously, for fear that somehow his father would sense him listening.

“Alright, alright, boss, calm ya bloody passions!”

“That insufferable cassé and his family are going to drive me into the gutter and it’s entirely  _your_  fault!” Agostino practically screamed. Matthew winced, holding his breath. He hoped his mother wasn’t able to hear - she’d be awfully grumpy in the morning if she woke up during the night.

“Wouldn’t say it’s my fault...” Lysander said sulkily. “More like their stupid son’s. Coulda looked where he was blinkin’ goin’ with that coffee in relation to your Matthew, couldn’t he?”

Matthew’s stomach jolted with recognition. He remembered that number now. That inappropriately-named glouglou from weeks ago who had spilled coffee on his shirt.  _Dominic_.

“Well, now, Lysander. It seems we’ve reached the solution to the problem that we’re facing,” Agostino said suddenly. His words left a chill rolling down Matthew’s spine.

“Eh? We ’ave? I’m not followin’ here.”

“Yes. The only available way of managing my funds and making sure that no more of it is wasted on those pathetic glouglous is to get rid of the man who is taking it from me.”

“An’ that wouldn’t be me, would it? ‘Cause I’m pretty interested in bein' alive an' all that palaver.”

“No, Lysander. It’s not you.”

“Ah. That’s good.” There was a pause. “So who  _are_ we gonna savagely murder, then?”

“I believe you’re already well-acquainted with a certain glouglou by the name of Fleck.”

“I don’t see where this is goin’, to be frank, boss. You keep changin’ the subject an’ it ain’t ’alf confusin’.”

Matthew’s teeth gritted. He hadn’t even seen this Lysander fellow’s  _face_  and yet he already despised him. He strained his ears, listening hard to catch his father’s reply.

“You are going to--”

“Matthew, sweetheart, what are you doing?”

Matthew turned around, his stomach jolting as he spotted his mother standing in the doorway to his room, a confused frown on her face.

“I’m... too warm,” he lied. “Just cooling down on the balcony.”

“Come here, darling.” His mother held out her arms and Matthew obediently, albeit reluctantly, scooped himself up from the floor of the balcony and walked slowly towards her. Calliope’s arms wound around his thin waist, her forehead resting on his. “We’re proud of you. Your father and I. He may not show it, but he is. He wants only the best for you. You do understand that, don’t you?”

Matthew nodded once. “Yes, mother. I understand.” He pulled away from her embrace, slowly crawling back under the covers of his bed and staring balefully over at her.

“Sleep, darling. You have a big day tomorrow,” Matthew’s mother sighed softly, perching herself delicately on the edge of his bed and reaching over to push the hair out of his eyes. “ _Des images me reviennent, comme un souvenir chantant_ ,” she sung gently. Matthew’s eyes fluttered shut as the calming sounds of his mother’s voice washed over him. “ _Une ancienne ritournelle, autrefois en juin..._ ”

That night, Matthew slept peacefully.

*

“Matthew?”

The Voix in question rolled over, burying himself further into his duvet. Although he had slept well, he wasn’t really much of a morning person.

“Matthew.”

He sat up when the voice was finally placed with an owner in his mind. All fluffy blond hair and bright blue eyes, he peeked out from underneath the edge of his duvet to see a smiling Adora.

“Happy birthday, love,” she cooed. “You always look so cute in the mornings,” she remarked quietly, one hand stroking his cheek. Catching her hand, he gave it a kiss before gracefully rolling out of bed and padding into the bathroom to brush his teeth, Adora following and then leaning against the door frame.

“I can’t believe you’re twenty today,” Adora said, eyes tracing the contours of Matthew’s bare back as he scrubbed his teeth over the sink. “Finally,” she smiled. Their eyes met in the mirror, Matthew giving a small nod in response before bending over and spitting.

“Do you think anything will happen today?” Adora queried, as her boyfriend dried his mouth on a pristine white towel.

“About selection?” Adora nodded in confirmation. “I hope not,” he said, leaning down to kiss her softly before holding her close in a hug. She smelled like cinnamon. “I don’t really want anything to ruin the parties.”

“But the Vieillesse--”

“Will be enjoying the festivities as much as we will be, love. Father said that they often don’t choose for weeks, even months, after both are eligible,” Matthew reassured her, stroking her long blonde hair with one hand and her covered hip with another.

“But there’s never been anyone like us before.There’s never been a couple waiting for each other before.”

“Then we have nothing to go by but Voix instinct,” Matthew said, effectively ending that line of questioning with a kiss, to which Adora showed no sign of protest. Walking back towards to bed, Matthew sat down on the edge and brought Adora down across his lap. They continued kissing, Matthew stroking Adora’s sides with his thumbs and causing her to giggle.

“Come on, you,” she laughed as she batted a grinning Matthew’s hands away from the sides of white chiffon dress. “We need to get you in some clothes. You can’t spend your birthday in your boxers.”

Ten minutes later, Matthew was still sitting on the edge of his bed in his boxers as Adora stood in front of his extensive wardrobe, head tilted to the side.

“How about white trousers and a light blue shirt?” she suggested, eyes not once leaving the clothes before her.

“Nope,” Matthew replied quickly, the outfit not one he required. He was in one of those moods where he wanted to match Adora as much as possible. With blond hair and blue eyes, he was already halfway there, however her colour palette that day was white from her dress and the very dark blue from her belt.

“Alright then, how about... white shirt, white trousers?”

“Anything else?”

Adora turned around, hands just below that dark blue belt on her hips. “Something navy, perhaps?” she said with a smirk on her face.

“How did you guess?” Matthew said, bringing his hands to his face in mock horror like the true dramatic he was. Laughing, he got up and grabbed the items from his wardrobe, disappearing into his bathroom again to get changed, this time sans Adora.

A few minutes later, a fully dressed Matthew emerged from the bathroom, grabbing a waiting Adora by the hand and dragging her towards the grand staircase. She stayed quiet, giggling quietly as her boyfriend’s eyes landed on the huge crowd of household staff gathered at the bottom of the stairs.

Matthew stared down at the assembly of glouglous, who were all avoiding his gaze, and coughed lightly. As if brought to life, the people stiffened, looked up at him and chorused a numb, “Happy birthday,” as a single unit.

Matthew smiled as graciously as possible and made his way slowly down the stairs, nodding as they parted like the Red Sea to let him pass between them. Adora followed a few paces behind, her face lit up in a smile.

“Happy birthday, my sweet,” Calliope practically sang, pulling Matthew into a tight hug as the glouglous darted away to their morning tasks. The young man in her grip wriggled slightly despite his smile, his mother releasing him. He turned to Agostino, who seemed preoccupied with something or the other; which to Matthew was not uncommon behaviour.

“Happy birthday, son,” his father said, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders and clapping him on the back three times. Pushing out all memories of the conversation he shouldn’t have heard last night, Matthew choked out a “thank you, father,” as he broke free from the grip.

“We have presents for you!” Adora squeaked, grabbing Matthew by the hand and pulling him through into one of the many sitting rooms. She pushed him down onto a plush leather sofa as his mother joined him at his side, his father choosing to stand behind them all. Adora returned to Matthew with a slight box in her hands, wrapped in silver and adorned with a bow. “Open it,” she whispered, a grin threatening to break across her features.

Matthew gave her a small smile but said nothing. His long fingers made easy work of the ribbon, pushing it aside and carefully unfolding the wrapping paper, fully aware of just how much time Adora would’ve spent on wrapping it perfectly. Discarding the paper, he held a plain white box in his hand, and with a look of encouragement from Adora, he opened the lid.

Amongst bundles of soft white tissue paper, Matthew found a beautiful silver watch. The face of the watch was a pale blue, one he instantly recognised as the same shade as Adora’s eyes. The wrist strap was made of silver links, and when he tried it on it fitted perfectly.

Realising he had been silent, and that Adora was most likely hanging on every blink of his eyelids, he looked up from his left wrist and to the girl sitting on the floor before him. “It’s beautiful, Adora. Thank you,” he whispered, slightly speechless. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see even his father regarding the watch with a careful eye. It must have cost the Constantine family a small fortune.

Matthew leaned close to press a gentle kiss to her cheek, his parents’ eyes on him preventing him from doing anything else. His mother handed his next present to him; this was heavier than Adora’s and quite thick. He carefully opened it to see a leather-covered photo album, embroidered lavishly with gold thread at the corners and titled with the words “To Matthew”. He grinned, prising the book open and staring down at a picture of his mother, holding a bundle of white fabric in her arms. She looked far younger as she cradled her baby son in her arms, and with a jolt Matthew recognised his father. It had taken him so long to realise that it was in fact Agostino because the man in the picture was  _smiling_. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, one arm around his wife’s shoulders as he looked down at his son.

Matthew turned to the next page, to see another picture, this time of him as a small child, no older than three. His hair was paper-white and thin, and he was sitting in a baby bath and glaring sulkily at the camera as his mother washed him clean. His mother saw the picture and let out a twinkling laugh, reaching up to adjust his collar. “You always hated being washed,” she said, her long fingers touching his cheek. “You used to kick up a fuss when your nanny washed you and she almost dropped you because you were screaming so loudly. I had to wash you from then on.” She was smiling still, her eyes glistening slightly.

He looked at the next photograph, which was of he and Adora, five and six years old respectively. They were sitting in the garden, playing with toys, while Matthew’s father - rather surprisingly - attempted to throw out a picnic blanket over the lawn. “Your mother and I,” said Agostino from behind, and Matthew looked up to see his father smiling too. It was all quite surreal, “used to picnic everywhere. We would go for walks to the beach and back, finding the perfect place to eat, and then we realised that we had a perfectly beautiful garden.”

Matthew nodded with a soft laugh. “I remember this,” he said. “You gave me a sandwich and I threw it into the bushes because the crusts were still on. Mother sent me inside.”

Calliope laughed from beside him, Adora joining in. “I remember too!” Matthew’s girlfriend said delightedly. “I wanted to go home because you’d gone inside, so I started to cry--”

“And I took you inside,” Calliope completed, “because I thought you were tired.”

Matthew thought for a moment, remembering the times when the most important thing had been whether or not there were crusts on his sandwich. It was most certainly not the same now. Everything was changing and there was the possibility of becoming a Unique at stake. On top of all this, there was the conversation he had overheard between the man named Lysander and his father last night. They had talked of  _murder_ , and as if it was the last resort. He remembered Dominic, the glouglou boy with the Voix name, and he remembered the punishment his father had bestowed upon the boy’s family. He couldn’t have been older than Matthew himself.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. The boy had ruined his shirt, not to mention the carpet, and had broken several of the Bellamy family’s possessions. It was simply ridiculous to think that the boy could get away with what he had done.

He, his mother and Adora spent a little while longer looking through the photographs (“Look at you at your first performance! You looked so  _dashing_  in your little suit!” “Mother!” “But you  _did_!”), while his father disappeared, presumably to check up on the breakfast. Matthew assumed that the photo album had been from both of his parents, but his father returned into the room with a small but thick envelope, which he pressed into his son’s hands.

“Don’t open it here. Let me talk to you outside first. Man to man,” he said, and Matthew stood up, leaving his mother and Adora to giggle through the remainder of the photographs and talk about him. He and his father walked out into the corridor. Agostino slung his arm around his son’s shoulders and they took a slow walk along to the dining room. “You’re a man now,” he said, pride in his voice, “and you and Adora have been together for several years. You know that we will give you whatever you want, whenever you want, but...” he paused, gesturing to the envelope clutched in Matthew’s hands. “Open it.”

Matthew did as he was told, gasping as a sheaf of notes fell into his hands. “Father--”

“There’s £10,000 there,” his father said, stopping and reaching out to grasp Matthew firmly by the shoulders. “There’s another £100,000 in your bank account, which I set up this morning.”

“Father, I don’t--”

“You can do whatever you wish with this money,” Agostino said. “But I strongly advise you to be wary of what you spend it on. You and Adora will have a wonderful life together and this money is all towards it. Your mother and I thought that with the money you have there, you could buy whatever you want. I know you prefer it to being given presents from others. But the money in your account will increase at a remarkably high interest, and you can use it to set firm foundations for your life with Adora.”

“Father,” Matthew said before Agostino could interrupt again, “thank you.” Tucking the flap of the envelope under the opening, he stepped closer to his father and wrapped his arms around him in a hug. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Des images me reviennent, comme un souvenir chantant,” ... “Une ancienne ritournelle, autrefois en juin...” adapted from Loin du froid de décembre, which is one of the songs from the French version of Anastasia. You can find a copy of the song [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nz-OShhxLfw).
> 
> Our adapted lyrics loosely translate to:
> 
> "Images come back to me, singing like a memory" ... "An ancient chorus, one time in June."
> 
> You can find a really poorly sung version of those adapted lyrics [here](http://soundcloud.com/xtobewithyoux/french-lmao).


	7. bricolage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew struggles to understand exactly how glouglous like to express themselves...

“ _Muuuuum_.”  
  
“Dominic, no protests, you are wearing this.”  
  
“But I match Nancy!”  
  
“Nicky, we’re twins; Mum has every right to make our outifts match.”  
  
Dominic groaned, smoothing out the creases in his shirt. He hated wearing shirts. More importantly, he hated wearing a striped shirt that matched the striped blouse his twin  _sister_  was wearing.  
  
Staring himself down in the mirror, he tried to remember the last time he wore a shirt. At first, he couldn’t. He later decided it was for his grandmother’s funeral three years ago. The rest of his grandparents had died before his birth - it wasn’t uncommon for glouglous to have short life expectancies.  
  
Pushing the morbid thoughts from his mind, he finished buttoning the cuffs of his shirt as Nancy came back into their bedroom, nudging him aside with her hip and complaining about him hogging the mirror. “God, Nicky, with the amount of time you spend in front of a mirror someone would think you’re gay!”  
  
“Oi, watch it Nancy. I’m sure the whole throng of girls I’ve dated will tell you otherwise,” Dominic said with a shrug.  
  
“Who, Rory? And, there was another... ah, yes, Rory! Then Rory, and then...”  
  
“There was Lisa!”  
  
Nancy tilted her head slightly, giving him a look that would turn any man to stone. “You were four years old, Nicky. That’s not what I’d call everlasting love.”  
  
“Alright, calm down. Sorry that I don’t have old men clamouring over me each night. That’s not what I’d call everlasting love either.”  
  
Dominic knew he hit a nerve when he heard Nancy drop her hairbrush onto the wooden floor. “What. Did you. Just say?” she spat through gritted teeth.  
  
Turning away, Dominic smiled to himself. He always,  _always_  tried his hardest to wind up Nancy. The results were priceless, and he knew she’d get her comeuppance eventually.  
  
“You heard me. I can’t help it that my partners like me for my personality and not for my tits.”  
  
Nancy glared at him for three seconds, then laughed. “Shut the fuck up, Nicky,” she said, lightly punching him on the arm. She shook her chest in his direction, grinning. “You’re just jealous.”  
  
“Nancy! Did I hear you swearing?” their mother shrieked from just outside the door.  
  
“Yes, mother!” Dominic yelled, layering false shock into his tones. “I couldn’t bear it! Swearing all over the place, every other word! It was  _scandalous_.”  
  
Annie made her way back into the room, her arms folded across her chest. “You can shut up, Dominic. Worse things have come out of your mouth.” She reached over to flatten down a tuft of unruly hair. “Put your leather jacket on. Come on, we’re going to be late.”  
  
“Bet Dad’s not wearing a shirt,” Dom muttered sourly as he grabbed his jacket.  
  
“No, that’s right, he’s not. He’s going in his birthday suit.” His mother countered with a wry smile. “Nancy, stop pouting at yourself in the mirror - you’re worse than your brother.”  
  
“I do  _not_  pout at myself in the mirror!” Dom snapped angrily.  
  
“You make a sort of fish face,” Nancy said slowly as she let her hair tumble over her shoulders in soft waves. “You suck your cheeks in and stick your lips out. It’s quite amusing, really.”  
  
Dominic bristled. He thought for a moment as they were walking downstairs, not content with letting Nancy win their petty argument. “Hey, Nancy, are you still going with that Ben bloke from down the street?”  
  
“Yes,  _Dominic_ , I am.”  
  
“I thought you were saving yourself for that Lysander guy.”  
  
His mother stopped at the landing of the stairs, and despite the fact that Nancy seemed to take the remark in her stride, Annie thought differently. Nancy disappeared to find her father, and Dominic stood just in front of his mother, unable to move as she had grabbed his wrist and was holding him back.  
  
“If you dare say anything like that again, young man, I will send you  _straight_  back to your room.”  
  
Dominic neglected to mention that being sent straight back to his room was a much better prospect than attempting to socialise at a party for Matthew Bellamy’s birthday. He hung his head, nodding. “Yes, Mum.”  
  
“I know you don’t care about this party, but that man will hurt your sister at the first chance he gets and you will  _not_  get away with joking about it. He is a sick, twisted man and if it was up to me, we wouldn’t have to talk to him at all,” his mother whispered vehemently. “If you even think about joking about our situation - which, if you’ll remember, we got into because of what  _you_  did - I will tell your father.”  
  
Dominic chewed on his bottom lip. She didn’t have to tell his father for him to understand that he had crossed a line. “I’m sorry, Mum, I really am,” he said.  
  
“I know, sweetheart,” Annie sighed, patting down his hair again. “Does this  _ever_  stay in place?”  
  
He could see that she was willing to let the subject go, and so he simply shook his head and grinned. “Not really. Never has.”  
  
“I suppose not.” Annie looked over his shoulder, a smile breaking out over her face as Dominic’s father arrived in their midst. “You look  _wonderful_ , darling.”  
  
Fleck was smartly dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, a tie neatly pushed up to his top button and his shoes shined as best they could be. Annie left Dominic to link arms with her husband, looking resplendent in a knee-length red and white polka dot dress. With her free hand, she picked up a pie that she had baked earlier.  
  
Patting his son on the back as he passed, Fleck ushered them all out into the weak sunshine, shutting the door behind them. It was barely dinner time and the rare streetlamp in this part of St Pierre was only just beginning to flicker to life. Over the sound of other families leaving their homes to head to the nearby party, Dominic could hear what sounded like jazz music floating over the rooftops. Sans vocals, of course.  
  
“Dom!” a voice shouted, the man in question spinning around to the familiar sound. His closest friend (aside from his sister; this fact he would only admit very rarely) Scrap was jogging up the road behind his family, waving a hand frantically in the air.  
  
Annie smiled, a random memory of the boys playing in the street as children coming to mind. “Dom, we’ll head on down to the party. Don’t be too late getting there, alright?” she said, reaching up to pinch his cheek before turning away.  
  
Scrap grinned at him, before bumping his fist with him. Scrap was taller than Dom, with unruly brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was twice as broad as his friend, and could easily knock down a brick wall, Dom reckoned. “She still treating you like a baby?” he asked with a wicked glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips.  
  
“Yup. You wouldn’t think I’m twenty, would you?” the blond said, shaking his head.  
  
“I don’t know, you’re as thin as a stick,” Scrap quipped, Dom throwing his head back and laughing loudly. He didn’t spend enough time with his friend nowadays. “Seriously, though, are you eating alright? Mam says she can fix you up a plate if you want...”  
  
“We’re alright, Scrap, thanks for asking. We’re coping,” Dominic said, kicking at a stone under his feet as they walked down the hill towards the party. “We’re not eating as well as we used to and I’m wearing the same clothes over and over but--”  
  
“Dom, mate, I know,” Scrap said, patting his friend on the back reassuringly. “My mam got fired from the Bellamy kitchens before, remember? Just for  _looking_  that head bloke--”  
  
“Agostino,” Dominic spat.  
  
“Yeah, him. Right in the eye, and she got fired. Can you remember that?”  
  
Dominic nodded; he could. He also seemed to remember that Scrap’s younger sister ended up selling her body to help them pay the rent, but he didn’t mention that.  
  
Finally, they reached the party. A long table covered in a light blue tablecloth - the colour of St Pierre - ran for what seemed like miles in both directions along the main street. People were everywhere; putting food down on the table, chatting to their friends, or dancing to the upbeat jazz music. Scrap sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets. “This is going to be fun,” he said numbly. “Oh, look, they have those little sausage things on sticks! This  _is_  going to be fun!”  
  
Dom rolled his eyes as Scrap rushed off to the aforementioned treats, while he stood and searched for his family. His friend arrived by his side moments later, a paper plate filled with a mound of sausages and topped with a single cheese cube. “Scrap, are you really gonna eat all of those?”  
  
“Don’t be stupid. I got this cheese cube for you.”  
  
Dom grinned and plucked the cheese cube from the mountain of sausages. He ate it slowly, umming and ahhing as he went. “The most beautiful cheese cube I have ever eaten,” he declared. “Thank you, Scrap, for enriching my life.”  
  
“Your sarcasm is profound but witless,” Scrap replied through a mouthful of sausages. “Your sister is looking  _fine_  tonight, by the way.”  
  
“Well, you’ll have to stare at her from afar, because she’s here with Ben tonight,” Dom replied, plucking a sausage from Scrap’s plate and eating it. “How unfortunate for you.”  
  
Scrap scowled, shifting the plate away from Dom. “That Ben kid - what’s he done recently? Other than be stupid.”  
  
“So offensive, Scrap,” Dom said with a short laugh, patting his friend on the back. “I’m gonna get--”  
  
“Dom, sweetheart,” his mother called from a way down the table. She had a plate stacked high and was barely visible in the darkness of twilight. “Come and get something to eat.”  
  
“I’m getting something, Mum,” he called back, walking towards the table and picking up a plate. He was just reaching for a sandwich when the music suddenly cut out, and the conversation increased in volume tenfold. He looked up to see people separating to create a path to the opposite side of the table, and he held his breath as he wondered just who had caused such an impact.  
  
“No  _way_ ,” gasped Scrap from beside him, his mouth stuffed full of sausages.  
  
Agostino Bellamy was walking through the crowds, dressed smartly in a navy suit, his blond hair slicked back behind his head. Dom’s mouth fell open in shock, then snapped shut as he gritted his teeth in anger at seeing the man. As if it wasn’t enough to have Agostino there, the Voix stepped aside to reveal a scowling Matthew, who quickly changed his expression to a simpering smile. It looked to Dominic as if he was suffering through a particularly painful bout of constipation. Or he simply wasn’t enjoying the party either.  
  
“Happy birthday, Master Bellamy!” a woman beside him said, and he turned to her with that awkward smile and shook her hand.  
  
Dominic turned away as the conversation and the music resumed, a sour expression on his face. Scrap had disappeared from beside him - presumably raiding the table for more sausages - and he had lost the rest of his family in the crowds. He sighed, chewing morosely on a sandwich and resorting to glare pointedly in the younger Bellamy’s direction.  
  
Dominic scratched at his neck, slipping the top button of his shirt open and sighing. Bellamy was under-dressed for his  _own_  birthday party, to say the least. With his tight-fitting black jeans and his tight-fitting black shirt and his tight-fitting  _face_ , he looked as if he had stepped out to put the rubbish in the bin - but of course he didn’t do that. He was  _Matthew Bellamy_ , and he was staring directly at Dominic 815231184.  
  
The next Unique managed to squeeze his way out of a circle of fawning young girls and stalked over to Dominic, his odd smile already replaced with the familiar scowl. “ _You_ ,” he said venomously.  
  
“Me,” Dom replied with a nod. “Yes, you got that one right. Score one for Master Bellamy.”  
  
He didn’t have a clue why he was being so rude - and to Matthew Bellamy, of all the Voix under the sun - but it seemed to have had an effect. The Voix in question spluttered incoherently for a few moments, before he summed himself up to his greatest height (which, Dom noted, wasn’t all that great - he was shorter than the glouglou) and hissed, “Who do you think you are?” in what Dom presumed was his most threatening voice.  
  
“Dominic. Hello.” Dom raised his hand in a wave, putting his empty plate down on a nearby table. “Happy birthday. How old are you now, ten?”  
  
Bellamy bristled, eyes narrowing to slits. Dominic tried not to grin; he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he felt  _so_  good, to have one of the most famous Voix of his time trapped under his thumb. He’d seen the man throw many a diva fit before, but right this second, he wasn’t arguing back.  
  
It was like Bellamy didn’t want to stand up to him. He  _couldn’t_  stand up to him, for whatever reason.  
  
“At least I wasn’t the one,” Bellamy finally muttered, “who intentionally spilled  _coffee_ all over a Voix!”  
  
“Hey, neither was I. How about that?” Dom snapped back by way of reply, the other man’s sour attitude towards the misunderstanding grating on him.  
  
“And I’m twenty years old today, for your information,” Bellamy added, lifting his nose into the air and crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
  
Dominic blinked. It was strange to hear from Matthew Bellamy’s own mouth that he and the Voix were the same age. It was as if they operated on a different timescale, and suddenly having it confirmed that they did, in fact, live on the same planet under the same rules, sent his head reeling.  
  
He was momentarily stunned by this fact and, as such, didn’t notice the music changing tone, from upbeat jazz to a slower, more sensual song. He didn’t notice the lanterns being lit, and he most certainly didn’t notice couples moving together and preparing to dance.  
  
Bellamy was looking around, probably trying to find his father, when the frontman of the instrumental band called, “Find your partners, everyone. Let’s take it  _down_ a little with a smooth tango.”  
  
Bellamy’s nostrils flared. “What kind of ridiculous ritual is this?” he hissed. “Do you glouglous do this often? Just sporadically break out into a dance?”  
  
Dominic didn’t reply. He couldn’t. Because he knew, in that moment, what was about to happen. He should have moved, but something kept him rooted to the spot. The frontman called out suddenly, “Ah! The birthday boy has found his partner! Clear the area, people.”  
  
“What?” Bellamy was beginning to panic, and Dominic couldn’t help but silently agree with his question. “You’re not serious, are you? This is not happening.”  
  
“I think we have to dance,” Dominic said numbly.  
  
“We don’t  _have_  to do anything!” Bellamy said shrilly.  
  
“Fine, if you don’t want to,” Dom shrugged, making to walk away. “You’re only scared that I’ll be a better dancer than you.”  
  
He had only walked two steps when he felt a cool hand close around his wrist, spinning him until he and Bellamy were inches away from each other. The Voix’s chin jutted out as his other hand dropped to Dominic’s waist. “You are a glouglou,” Bellamy whispered by Dominic’s ear. “You are  _not_ better than me.”  
  
“Wanna bet?” Dom replied with a smirk, his free hand landing between Matthew’s sharp shoulder blades. He could feel Matthew’s bright blond hair tickling his cheekbone as they looked towards their outstretched hands, finally beginning to move to the music.  
  
Dominic led, at first. He pulled Matthew across the ground, then the smaller man wrenched them back around and towards the band. The Voix’s grip on Dominic’s wrist was tight but slowly relaxing, the hand on his hip less of a claw and more of a caress. Dominic was beginning to feel comfortable, and at this thought he started breathing harder.  
  
Other couples joined them on the small area of road designated as a dance floor, accidentally knocking into the pair and forcing them closer towards each other. Matthew huffed as their chests were pressed close together, swallowing hard and feeling Dominic’s hand apply more pressure against his back.  
  
“I told you I was a good dancer,” Dominic whispered lowly into Matthew’s ear, the two men looking over each other’s shoulders. Although they didn’t voice it, they both knew they’d rather die than tango properly, looking into each other’s eyes throughout the song.  
  
“ _Filthy cassé_ ,” Matthew hissed, the corner of his mouth catching the shell of Dominic’s ear and causing the glouglou to shudder. At this proximity, Matthew felt it too and he swallowed dryly once again, his leg brushing against Dominic’s as the street became more crowded and the music got deeper, bassier.  
  
“But you like it, though,” Dominic whispered back. He didn’t know what he was doing, or the size of the grave he was digging, but it felt good. “Squeaky clean lives need a bit of  _filth_  from time to time.”  
  
Matthew pulled back slightly to look Dominic in the eyes. The grey eyes reminded him a little of the pale blue of Adora’s, but Dominic’s were stormy and dark; they were compelling. Controlling.  
  
“You have a lot of nerve to speak to me like that,” Matthew said, trying to keep calm. “I can’t decide if I should have you killed for it, or if I should respect you for it.”  
  
Dominic remained silent. The men continued to stare at each other, locked in their rather intimate embrace and unable to look away, because neither wanted to back down.  
  
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’m afraid the song finished about two minutes ago,” said a rather chirpy voice, and with mirrored movements, they turned quickly to see Nancy grinning at them with her hands on her hips. “Happy birthday, Master Bellamy,” she added politely.  
  
“Thank you,” the Voix said distractedly, looking between Dominic and Nancy with a frown. “Are you two related? Because--”  
  
“Yes, we are. He’s my twin brother. Unfortunately,” Nancy said, rolling her eyes. She smiled sweetly. “Now, if you’ll excuse my brother, I have to talk to him.”  
  
Dominic wasn’t listening. There was a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow down, no matter how hard he tried, and his ears were ringing slightly. The sweet smell of lavender tinged with sweat was emanating from Matthew’s pores, and combined, the scent was making him feel lightheaded. He stepped away from the Voix, shaking his head and stalking away. He ignored Nancy’s calls behind him, replying to her urgent, “Dom, where are you going?” with a hasty “piss off.”  
  
He had escaped from the crowds now, and the cooler air was calming him down a little. He took in deep breaths, walking until the flicker of the lanterns was far in the distance and he could no longer hear the music that kept trying to creep under his sweaty skin. He licked his lips, stopping by a high brick wall and sinking to the ground. The back of his head dropped to rest against the wall as his hand drifted across his stomach, absentmindedly scratching at the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t know how he felt, but at the same time he did. He knew  _exactly_  how he felt, and the last time he felt this flustered was when Rory had...  
  
Dominic shook his head, clearing it of those thoughts as his hand drifted lower, playing with his belt buckle. He felt drunk; he could barely focus on one single thing apart from how his skin was burning, how he kept blinking and seeing blue, how his trousers were so unbearably  _tight_...  
  
“No!  _Don’t!_ ”  
  
And then he felt totally sober.


	8. suite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blow to the heart...

Dominic heaved himself up from the floor without thinking and ran straight towards the shout he had heard. Living away from the relative safety of the Voix end of St Pierre, he was used to fights in and around the street where he lived. It was common knowledge that it was incredibly unsafe to be outside after nightfall. There were no streetlamps and anyone stupid enough to leave the safety of their homes in the dark would be robbed or killed within minutes. Of course, the Voix didn’t do anything to stop it; in fact, it was Dominic’s opinion that they encouraged it, supporting the view that the Voix were of safety and peace, and the glouglous were the barbarians that had to be squashed underfoot whenever possible.

He could barely see a thing. It was, judging by the cheap plastic watch on his wrist, almost ten o’clock at night. His heart beat just that little bit faster with the knowledge that he was doing something he had been actively warned against doing his whole life. “Hello?” he called out uncertainly as he rounded a corner.

He stopped dead, holding his breath and stepping backwards until he was flat against the wall behind him. There was a dark, slim figure walking quickly along the road. Dominic held back a gasp as the light from the moon illuminated the figure’s head of shocking blond hair. The man stopped, glancing over his shoulder, and walked briskly away.

_He was a Voix_. The thought hit Dominic hard, slamming into him with the force of a truck. He waited, breathless, until the man’s footsteps had disappeared from his hearing, and began to run the way the man had came.

“Hello?” he called again, walking with cautious steps.

A cough was the only noise he heard in reply. He swallowed hard. Dom was standing in the middle of a road, with houses on every side of him. He didn’t know where he was and he could barely see his hand in front of his face when he held it up. And there was somebody, somewhere very close to him, who couldn’t reply to his calls.

He walked in the direction of the cough, seeing what looked to be a human figure lying on the ground in the small alley between two houses. There was only one way to enter the alleyway and that was the way Dominic had come. He walked faster, beginning to run until he skidded to a halt beside the figure he had seen.

“Dad?” he whispered.

Fleck was lying on the ground, one hand clasped to his chest and the other limp beside him. As Dominic spoke, however, his father’s hand reached out and curled around Dom’s ankle, effectively pulling the younger glouglou to the ground beside him. “Ag--” he coughed out.

“I don’t...” Dom’s eyes filled with tears. “Dad, what are you--?” He couldn’t finish his sentence. His father’s other hand, the one at his chest, fell slightly, revealing a shirt that was soaked with blood. “Dad!” he said loudly. “Dad, what happened?”

Fleck shook his head, clasping Dominic’s wrist with his blood-soaked hand. “Don’t... trust... them...” he whispered, and lay still.

*

Matthew Bellamy was gone by the time Dominic had found his way back to the party, which all seemed so terribly pointless now. He pushed his way through the crowds, his father’s blood on his hands and drying, brown and crusted, on his shirt, until he found his mother, who was laughing with a woman he didn’t recognise. She turned to him, her eyes crinkled at the corners, though her smile disappeared as soon as she noticed the state of her son.

“Dominic, what happened?” she said urgently, leaving her plate of food in her friend’s hands. “Dominic, sweetheart--”

“They killed him,” he whispered, Annie’s hands reaching up to his face and cupping it lightly.

“Killed who, sweetheart?”

The rest of the night passed by in a blur. There was a statement that needed to be taken by the community wardens, and Nancy had to be told of the incident that had taken place. The people who had attended the party were told to go back to their houses and to take as much of the leftover food as they could in compensation.

Dominic’s sister did not cry until she saw the blood on his hands.

Dominic’s mother did not cry until she saw her husband’s body.

Dominic did not cry at all.

He lay awake in bed, listening to the soft, gentle sounds of Nancy’s sobs in the darkness of their room. Guilt was rushing through his body like fire, burning everything it touched. It was his fault. He could have saved his father, could have protected him. He could have kept him at the party where he would have been seen, and not alone in the dark. His father could have been alive if he hadn’t been dancing with Matthew Bellamy.

It all seemed so stupid now.  _Dancing with Matthew Bellamy_. Dancing for pride, dancing for bragging rights, dancing to be one step above the other. He knew who he had seen walking away, the Voix who had been so secretively walking away from his father’s dying body.  _Agostino Bellamy_. Dominic didn’t know why, but he did know that his father had died because of a Voix and it was the Voix who were going to pay.

He had seen the expression on Matthew’s face when they had been dancing, and he was going to exploit it. His father had been killed -  _murdered_  - by Agostino Bellamy. Dominic had lost his father, and so Agostino was going to lose his son.

*

Matthew Bellamy couldn’t stop thinking about differences.

It was gone midnight and he was too tired to sleep. Adora had turned down the offer of a spare bedroom and Matthew had been too distracted to turn her away, so she was peacefully sleeping at his side with her golden hair spilling across his pale chest.

He kept recalling the events of the night, the way a birthday party had turned into a unique, sensual experience and had worsened from there. He remembered hearing distinct glouglou screams, ones that curdled his blood and almost made him ask his father what had happened, until he’d seen the stony expression on Agostino’s face. He noticed that the older Voix’s suit sleeves were creased; they had been rolled up and then down, it seemed. Matthew asked what he had been doing whilst he had been _preoccupied_  with Dominic, his father had told him he was  _taking care of some rubbish_.

Lying safe in his bed, Matthew gritted his teeth. After overhearing a less than pleasing conversation below his balcony only last night, he knew better than to underestimate his father, and what exactly he was capable of.

This, eventually, led Matthew to begin thinking about the differences between his father, and the fathers of others, teenagers thrown out of their comfortable home and forced to become real adults. He thought of Dominic, and Dominic’s father. Fleck had always written better songs than his predecessors, that much was clear, but he actually seemed to be a  _good person_ , something Matthew never saw in his world. He would always try and do his best, and more importantly, he would always try and do the best for his son.

Matthew tried to think of the last time Agostino did something with Matthew’s best interests in mind. He couldn’t. 

Sighing, Matthew pulled a free hand slowly out of the duvet and tucked it behind his head. He knew which name had been cried by the glouglous, he knew which name would be in the small glouglou section of the next day’s paper, and most importantly, he knew which name he had heard earlier, as he had been collecting Adora’s clothes from a spare bedroom.

_“It’s done.”_

_“What’s done, boss?”_

_“Fleck is done. My money problem is done, and you’ll be done if you ever do that with my money again, you hear me?”_

_“Boss, I can--”_

_“Get out of my sight, Lysander.”_

Matthew wondered why bad things always end up happening to good people. As his eyelids finally began to droop, a worried thought popped into his mind:  _if bad things happen to good people, then what happens to bad people? What happens to_ me _?_

*

The house was quiet.

Dominic could hear his own breathing, tumultuous in his ears, for lack of the usual racket of the morning rush. He spooned cereal into his mouth methodically, chewing with his eyes facing blankly ahead at the wall. Nancy was in much the same position, picking at her toast and pushing the pieces around her plate. Dom glanced over at his sister, spoon clattering on the side of his bowl as he reached over towards her and squeezed her free hand.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

The girl nodded somewhat numbly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She forced a smile onto her face.

“I’m fine, Nicky,” she replied, extracting her hand from his and standing up from the table. As she walked away, leaving her toast uneaten on her plate, her shoulders began to shake with gentle, quiet sobs. Dominic turned away, not wanting to watch his sister cry, and heard her ascending the stairs and disappearing entirely from the room.

Their mother was still in the kitchen, though. Judging by what he could hear, it sounded as if she was washing dishes. Dom sighed, turning around and making his way over to her. His mother was methodically scrubbing at a plate, and at the sound of his chair scraping on the floor, she turned and gave him a sad smile. “Did you eat your breakfast, sweetheart? You’ve got a big day ahead.”

Dom turned away for a second, before taking a deep breath and walking closer towards her. He was taller than her now; he had been for a few months. Looking down at her, he gently extricated her hands from the sink, the plate falling back into the lukewarm water with a splash. Droplets dripped from her fingers onto the floor as his arms slid around Annie’s body, pulling her close. “I’m gonna be fine,” he whispered to her. “I promise.”

She reached up, her hands still wet, and patted his hair softly. She let out a chuckle, her eyes sparkling with tears. “I made breakfast for your father today, I haven’t done it for a week, yet...” she said, her voice shaking. Dominic’s eyes moved away from her to a plate on the countertop. “The last egg. He always likes the last egg.” Dominic’s throat began to sting. He blinked, chewing on his bottom lip to draw the pain elsewhere. He said nothing, and he wasn’t even sure if he was capable of saying anything when he looked back at his mother. “And I... I forgot that he wasn’t...” she drew herself up, hands holding Dominic’s face as she looked up at him. “I love you, Dominic. Today is going to be different.”

He sucked in a breath, a smile reluctantly at his lips for Annie’s sake. “I love you too, mum.”

Walking back through the room to where he had left his jacket on the coat hooks by the door, he tried not to think. It wasn’t working. He could see his father, lying motionless on the cold, hard ground. He could see the slim, tall figure of Agostino Bellamy, hurrying away from the scene. He could feel the empty, burning rage filling his body at the thought of that man, that  _monster_ , who had ruined his life and caused his family so much suffering. Numbly, he pulled up the zip of his coat and unlocked the door, stepping out into a cool morning breeze and beginning his way to the Bellamy mansion.

It had been a week since the last time he had walked the familiar path to work. He had been given time off to recuperate from his loss, but all it had done was leave him stewing in his anger. He supposed that Agostino had wanted to seem pleasant in the public eye; as the death of his father had been on the night of Matthew Bellamy’s birthday party, it had been marginally more reported than the usual glouglou murder. And it  _was_  a murder. Dominic knew for sure that it had been Agostino who had killed his father. But more importantly, he knew that it was his own fault. Agostino had seen Dominic with Matthew that night, seen them dancing, and he had wanted to make a point.

God, he had been so  _stupid_  to put his pride before anything else. He could hardly remember any of the dance; it had been taped over by the nothingness of seeing his father die before his eyes. But he  _could_ remember the feeling of Matthew’s hand on his waist, his blue eyes burning holes in his head in that one, furious moment where they had looked at each other.

His hand rubbed over his face as he attempted to clear the thoughts from his mind. He had to stop thinking about it. Beginning to count his footsteps, he focused on placing his feet in the centre of the paving slabs below, recalling one particularly sunny day to guide him.  _One, two, three, four..._

Dominic stopped dead in the middle of the street. He cursed, turning back the way he had come and making quick time back to his house. He stepped back inside, slamming the door behind him. “Mum!” he called. “Have you seen my messenger bag?”

His mother had been upstairs, and she slowly made her way down towards him with a frown on her face. “Sweetheart, you’ve got it right now.”

He looked down at his side, noting with a sense of stupidity that he was in fact wearing the bag. It was resting heavily against his hip, and he wondered for a second how he could have forgotten that he had it.

“I just...” he stopped, thinking for a moment. “I just had this feeling that I’d forgotten something,” he mumbled.

“Oh, Dominic,” Annie’s lip trembled as she pulled him into yet another hug. He stood absolutely still, his mind finally realising that the only thing he had forgotten was his father.


	9. ensemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A song is somewhere to begin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations at the end of the chapter

“You’re early,” were the first surprised words out of Matthew Bellamy’s mouth as he passed his employee at the bottom of the staircase. Dominic turned around to see Matthew stop, mutter something to himself and then turn around to face him fully. “I mean... I’m sorry for your loss, Dominic.” It sounded like he was saying the name through his teeth, just like his  _pathetic excuse for a_ father did.  
  
Nodding, the glouglou shrugged his bag higher up on his shoulder and began to make his way to his father’s old office. Unlocking the small room under the stairs with a shaking hand, Dominic pushed the door open and shut it promptly behind him, his back pressing against the cool wood and his knees giving way below him.  
  
The room smelt like his father.  
  
Closing his eyes, he could see his father with a pencil tucked behind his ear, tongue sticking out as he tried to work out a particular melody or phrasing. Where a Voix composer would sing to check the tune, Fleck would turn to the old half-size piano pushed up against the far wall, sometimes needing Dominic to join him in playing both the melody, chords and bass together.  
  
Dominic opened his eyes to an empty office. He realised two things, with a quiet, defeated sigh. The first was that he’d be doing it all alone now. The second was that Matthew needed new songs, and sitting on the floor in his own office wouldn’t write them.  
  
Unless, of course, Matthew joined him in this tiny, cramped space. That would certainly put Dominic’s plan into action.  
  
He stood up, walking over to his desk and sitting down heavily on his father’s old chair. Pulling a sheet of pre-printed note paper towards him, he picked up a pencil and stared blankly down at it, unsure of what to write. He didn’t know how his father had done it, written songs like he did. He always had something to write, no matter how he felt. Dominic had never asked.  
  
He’d never asked his father a lot of things, and now he never would.  
  
Taking a bitter breath, he carefully drew a treble clef at the side of the first stave, followed by the time signature. It was going to be a long day.

*

At just past lunchtime, Dominic was already back in the office, with a solid page of his song completed. Contrary to what he had expected, the work he was forcing upon himself was doing an excellent job of stemming the thoughts about his father. When he concentrated, the music he was carefully inscribing on the paper was clouding his brain of all other thoughts.  
  
He had eaten little at lunch, however. The people who worked alongside him, and who had worked with his father, were slowly making their individual condolences. He didn’t want to hear it. He had heard the words “I’m sorry,” so many times that they had been echoing around his head as he sat in silence and chewed on his sandwich. He had left most of his food, and taken only a sip of his coffee, before he had packed his things away and headed back into the office, ignoring the questions from his coworkers.  
  
And now he sat back at the table, scribbling down chord progressions that matched his melody. Taking a deep breath, he sat back and scanned over his work, before standing up and moving towards the old piano that had been carefully placed in the corner of the room. He sat in front of it, pushing the cover out of the way and resting his fingers on the keys. The last time he had sat at this piano, it had been running through a song with his father.  
  
His fingers touched the keys lightly in the first chord, the sound ringing through the room. He swallowed, looking up at his notes and beginning to play the melody, softly at first, then with growing confidence.  
  
“Is that my [song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXBnLf68jw4)?”  
  
He jumped, fingers smashing on the keys. A loud discord sounded throughout the room. He turned to the doorway, where a small, slim figure dressed in a navy blue shirt and white jeans was standing, his blond hair reflecting the light.  
  
Dom nodded numbly in Matthew Bellamy’s direction, watching as the Voix walked slowly into the room and stood a few feet away from him, watching intently. “Start again,” Matthew said, and though his voice was quiet, there was a commanding tone to it. “I want to hear it properly.”  
  
Dominic turned back to the piano, swallowing the coarse words that he was desperate to say and glancing back up at his sheet to remind himself of the melody. He took a deep breath and began to play the song again, Matthew’s eyes fixed on him, burning into the back of his head. His nervous fingers missed a couple of the chords, however the blond behind him remained silent as his left foot began tapping a rhythm, his right working the pedals. The stool creaked as Dominic leaned forward, finding himself falling into the melody and unable to stop himself. Music had been his passion, and to create something even half as beautiful as his father’s would make him a happy man. Somewhere, he thought, his father would be looking down on him, and Dominic wanted nothing more than to make Fleck proud.  
  
His fingers came to a sudden stop. “That’s all I’ve written so far,” he said, blinking away thoughts of his father.  
  
Matthew hummed, deep in thought. “How long have you been working on this?”  
  
“Only this morning.”  
  
Humming again, Matthew stayed silent. Dominic looked back over his shoulder to see what the Voix was doing, but found him looking at a stack of papers in the corner of the room. “What’s it about? The theme?” he asked eventually.  
  
“It’s your choice, sir,” Dominic said, the respectful term slipping off his tongue from years of habit, although it left a bitter taste. After seeing Matthew’s reaction to it, however, the glouglou decided he should start using it more if he wanted his plan to work. Dominic, too lost in his own thoughts, almost missed Matthew’s statement.  
  
“I want to sit down.”  
  
Matthew had never written songs with his father in the office, Dominic knew that much. They would go to the dining room, or one of the many other rooms in the palace-like mansion. Never had Matthew even set _foot_  in the cramped little music office, until that morning.  
  
Maybe everything was changing.  
  
“Yes, of course,” Dominic said, scooting along the piano stool and gesturing to a dusty chair in the corner of the room simultaneously. In an almost comical gesture, Matthew looked between the chair, his white jeans and the chair once again before sitting primly at the edge of the stool cushion with a huff, still only a few inches from Dominic.  
  
“What would you like the song to be about, then?” Dominic asked, fingers quietly picking out the main melody on the keyboard. Matthew watched, fascinated, and it dawned on Dominic that in his world, he probably didn’t get to watch many people play piano, save for his accompanists. He’d probably never been this close to a piano in his life. He ignored Dominic’s question in favour of his own.  
  
“Can you teach me?” Matthew asked, voice quiet and barely there. Dominic turned to look at Matthew properly, the Voix actually looking shy for once. His blue eyes were sparkling, and he cleared his throat. “I asked my father and he said that I couldn’t. Told him that it might make me a better Unique, and he said I should lie about it to the press. I don’t want to, though; my mother raised me to tell the truth.”  
  
Dominic swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat when Matthew mentioned his own father. The two men stared at each other for seconds, minutes - Matthew didn’t know what had compelled him to tell Dominic such personal information about his private life; he wouldn’t tell one of his cooks, so why his songwriter? Looking away, Matthew pulled a face to himself.  
  
“I’m not very good,” Dominic blurted, finding himself having to explain when Matthew raised one eyebrow in a condescending manner. “I mean, I’ve never had any training. Your pianist would be better than me; my father taught me everything I know.”  
  
A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them, Matthew’s slender fingers reaching out to brush the ivories without actually pressing them. “Is that a lot, then?” Matthew asked, distracted. When Dominic didn’t reply, he looked up from his hands to see the other man scowling.  
  
“What?” Matthew asked. He stared at Dominic for another beat before continuing. “Oh, yes, your father, of course.”  
  
Dominic snapped his jaw shut, teeth biting together. “And I was  _just_  starting to think that you’re not a complete bastard.”  
  
Matthew’s eyes looked dangerous, his fingers pressing down on the piano and sending an out-of-place harmony through the room. “ _What_  did you just call me?” he spat through gritted teeth.  
  
“Does it matter? What will you do to me this time, hey? Dance with me then get my mother killed off instead? Add to the family tomb while you’re at it?!” Dominic screamed, fists clenching at his sides. He’d long ago stood up and was looking down at Matthew like he was the worst person in the world. Well, second worst, in Dominic’s opinion.  
  
Matthew paled, if that was even possible given his already snow-white complexion. He looked away, unable to watch the storms rage in Dominic’s eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said somewhat quietly, the atmosphere in the room thick and heavy on their heads. “I was only trying to be nice, given the circumstances.”  
  
“Well, you’ve just proved that Voix are incapable of being  _nice_ ,” Dominic started, continuing when he saw Matthew’s mouth pop open to argue back. “You saw us  _cassés_  last week; the people you call ‘broken’ actually have a stronger sense of goodwill than you snobs do!” Dominic moved away from the stool to stand at the opposite end of the small room, unable to be near to the man at his piano. A tiny voice in the back of his head reminded him that this wouldn’t help his plan, but it didn’t matter right now.  
  
The Voix’s head dipped downwards, and as Dominic watched, his chest rising and falling heavily, he noticed a faint blush tinting the pale cheeks. “I...” he subsided into silence for a moment, and Dom held his breath, wondering just what pitiful excuse Matthew was going to come up with now. “You’re...”  
  
“I’m what?” Dom sneered, extending his fingers and curling them back into fists repeatedly. “Please, do continue.”  
  
Matthew slowly stood up from the piano, back straight and eyes burning. “You are an insolent brat,” he spat out. “You talk to me with absolutely no respect--”  
  
“Is it really necessary?”  
  
“--and you have absolutely no idea of how insignificantly  _small_ you are. You think that because your father is dead, you can talk to me with that kind of attitude and get away with it!”  
  
“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Dom said with a nod. “You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?”  
  
Matthew’s mouth opened then closed several times in a row, before he finally folded his arms across his tiny chest and declared, “You make me  _sick_.”  
  
“ _Je m’en branle_ ,” Dominic replied, his face expressionless.  
  
The Voix stood dumbfounded for at least a minute; apparently it was rare that glouglous spoke the language that had been presided over by the Voix for so long. He watched with silent glee as Matthew summed himself up, taking in a breath and turning abruptly on his heel. He marched from the room, leaving Dom to listen quietly to the sounds of his angered footsteps. He stood, holding back a snort of laughter as Matthew’s voice rose to a shrill yell while addressing a glouglou. “Don’t just  _stand_  there, woman! Move out of the  _way_  or so help me I’ll...”  
  
The threat faded into silence; it sounded as if Matthew had walked away. Despite the fact that what had just happened was entirely the opposite of what he had wanted, it gave him more than a little pleasure in angering Matthew. Sitting back down at his desk, he marvelled over how easily he could make Matthew’s emotions skyrocket. So far, he had only managed to infuriate the Voix, but it wouldn’t take him long before Matthew snapped. And when Matthew snapped, Dominic would finally get what he wanted.  
  
Revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Je m'en branle"_ \- I don't give a fuck


	10. dorée

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace and joy surrounds Matthew after a visit from two very important people...

Matthew gritted his teeth, sprinkling another page of ripped paper onto the floor of his bedroom. The tiny scraps fluttered down to the thickly carpeted floor, coating it entirely. He numbly reached over to his notepad, pulling out another page and beginning the process again. First he halved it, then quartered, then--

The doorbell rang.

Matthew sat up, fingers loosening on the paper he held in his hands. His eyes widened considerably. All thoughts of his argument with the glouglou earlier in the day were wiped from his mind as he heard his father practically run up the stairs, calling his name as he went.

“Matthew! Matthew, come here  _immediately_!” The blond stood up from his bed, brushing down his trousers of any stray scraps of paper, as his father burst into the room, face red. “What are you wearing?” his father snapped. “Wash your face and put on some clean clothes.”

“Father, what--?”

“ _Just do it_ ,” Agostino said firmly, pushing his son towards the en suite bathroom.

Matthew hurried through his ablutions, giving himself a thorough wash before walking back into his bedroom and rifling through his clothes. “Father, what’s happening? Who’s here?”

“Put on your suit, Matthew,” his father replied, somewhat distractedly. “At least a shirt and proper trousers. Not those  _jeans_  you’re so fond of wearing. And damn you, wear a tie!”

Matthew sucked in a breath, trepidation coursing through his veins as he selected a long sleeved white shirt and slim-fitting black trousers with creases ironed down the middle. He changed as quickly as possible, doing as his father had instructed and pulling out a thin black tie from his wardrobe.

“Come here,” his father said, arms slightly open. Matthew blinked, wondering if perhaps Agostino was about to hug him. Instead, however, his father simply reached for the tie that hung limply in Matthew’s hand, carefully looping it around his neck and pushing it carefully up to his throat once it had been correctly tied. He stepped back, hands clutched at his son’s shoulders, and smiled. “Paix and Joie are here,” he said, a certain sense of pride tinging his words.

Matthew’s heart jumped to his mouth, a smile tilting his lips at the corners. “This is going to happen,” he said, more to himself. “I’m going to be a Unique.”

*

There were three people in the lounge when Agostino and Matthew entered it. The first of these, sitting primly in an armchair and wearing a neat, salmon-pink cocktail dress, was Calliope Bellamy, her blonde hair pulled into a loose chignon bun. Matthew gave her a small, quietly confident smile. She repaid him in kind, nodding interestedly at a comment made by one of their guests.

Matthew’s eyes travelled from his mother to the two people who were going to make his dream a reality. Paix and Joie, the Anciens. The ones who had the power to decide who would be a Unique.

They were twins, a rarity in the Voix community. In fact, it was rare enough to see siblings: Voix parents only ever had one child. It struck Matthew as he sat down opposite them, his father beside him, that they looked remarkably similar. Paix was slim and tall, his golden hair shimmering in the afternoon light and quiffed. His eyes were a deep blue, a perfect match to his sister’s. Joie was shorter, only a hair taller than Matthew but what she lacked in height she made up for with confidence. The twins were dressed in bright white, Paix in a suit with Joie in a shoulderless dress, her golden hair flowing over one of her shoulders.

“Hello, Matthew,” she said quietly, a smile threatening to break out on her lips, but not quite allowed to. However, Matthew beamed instead. “Myself and Paix,” she said with the tiniest flick of her lace-gloved hand “have visited your Adora this morning, to tell her exactly what we are about to tell you. Paix.”

“Myself, Joie and the Vieillesse are fully aware that both you and Adora are up for selection,” the matriarch’s twin started, all others in the room silent and in complete awe of the pair. “There are two tasks you must perform, one of which we hope you will achieve on your own and the other we are telling you about. Joie.”

“In two weeks,” the matriarch began, shaking her head slightly so a curl of her hair tumbled down, “we will call you to audition. Myself, Paix and the rest of the Vieillesse wish to hear a brand new song, and for this we ask Agostino and Calliope Bellamy not to hear the song beforehand,” she said with a slight nod to each of his parents, their instant grins in return almost embarrassing. “As always, we expect the best from you, Matthew, so ensure the song is personal and displays all of your talents,” she continued, her tone almost ominous. “We are sure you will pass the audition, which will then leave you to fulfil the other criterion.”

Matthew nodded, in a slight daze. He was so close to what he wanted; all he had to do now was finish that song with the wretched songwriter, perform it well and then do whatever other task the Anciens wanted him to fulfil.  _When they say jump..._

“When you and Adora have passed your auditions,” Joie continued, “we will then expect you to be completely ready for selection, because to our knowledge,” a look of understanding passed between Paix and Joie, “you aren’t quite ready yet, audition or no audition. It’s difficult, when you’re part of a couple.” Joie sighed, looking out of one of the large windows at the vast ocean. Matthew watched Agostino shuffle awkwardly, the silence strange yet unable to be broken. Eventually, Joie smiled to herself and continued.

“If you haven’t met both criteria by this time next month, myself and Paix will meet yourself and Adora in a  _private_  meeting,” she finished. After a pause, she coughed lightly. “Do you have any tea?”

Calliope’s hand shot to her mouth, her eyes wide. Matthew pressed his lips together, flexing his fingers as he watched his mother stand up and make her way across the room. Before she could leave, however, Agostino spoke up. “Calliope, darling,” he called. “Stay here. I’ll find someone to make it.”

“Yes,” Matthew’s mother said distractedly, moving to sit back down again. She turned to Joie, her voice shaking slightly as she spoke. “I am terribly sorry - I just didn’t  _think_...”

Joie gave her a placating smile, reaching out a hand to touch the other woman’s arm. Calliope let out a fluttering sigh and seemed to have calmed down considerably at Joie’s touch, but she flinched suddenly as Agostino let out a commanding bark. “You!” he said loudly, snapping his fingers. Matthew turned towards the door, his heart sinking slightly when he saw who his father had called in.  _Dominic_.

“Yes, sir?” the glouglou said politely, hands clasped politely in front of him and eyes trained solely on Agostino. Matthew cocked his head slightly at the sight; it almost looked as if the glouglou was  _glaring_  at his father.

In fact, he was.

Agostino moved to raise a hand, but suddenly stopped and remembered himself. Clearing his throat, he glared back and mouthed “don’t try  _anything_.” Dominic kept his nerve and didn’t change his expression. “A pot of tea, boy, and not a moment too slowly,” Agostino said crisply.

Dominic gave a slight bow. “Yes, sir,” he said again, the faux-compliment dripping with unnoticed sarcasm as he turned to leave the room. The sight of him had infuriated Matthew, and it was with difficulty that he swallowed down his anger. Only by remembering the two Anciens sitting opposite did he manage to control himself.

There was a strained, rather awkward silence in the room after Dominic had departed. Matthew took to fiddling with his fingers, pressing the fingertips together until they turned white. His mother was brushing non-existent dust from her dress, smoothing it over her legs until Matthew was sure she’d fray the fabric. His father was staring angrily out of the window, his jaw set and teeth obviously gritted.

Matthew glanced over at Paix and Joie, who were looking around the room with similar expressions of polite interest, as if a few chairs, a coffee table and a large painting hung on a wall was of the utmost importance to them. He looked back at his mother, who looked as if she was desperate to say something, to break the silence, but unsure of what exactly to say.

Eventually, however, Calliope burst out with, “IlovedthatsongyousanglastChristmas!”

Paix turned his beautiful head towards her. “I’m sorry?” he said slowly.

Matthew winced, watching an intense blush creep onto his mother’s face. He dipped his head, not wanting to watch.

“I... loved that song you both sang last Christmas,” she repeated meekly. Matthew could hear the embarrassment in her tones.

“Thank you,” said Joie’s voice. Matthew chewed on his bottom lip, hoping that someone,  _anyone_ , would say something else. He was almost relieved, then, when Dominic appeared in the doorway, deftly balancing a tray of four cups and a large teapot on the tips of his fingers. As he walked towards the table, he gave Matthew the tiniest of glances, his lips turning upwards in a defiant smirk.

Rage overtook Matthew entirely. How dare that  _cassé_  come into the same room as Paix and Joie and treat him in such an insolent manner? Wanting to do something, say something, to prove to the glouglou that he wasn’t going to take any more of the coarse attitude, he thought furiously in the few seconds he had before Dominic had neared the table. He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t make any signals. All he could do was force the glouglou to do something that would incur Agostino’s punishment.

It came to him in seconds. Leaning back in his seat, he waited until Dominic was inches away from him and then kicked out his foot, holding his breath and waiting for the glouglou to topple to the floor, tea spilling everywhere. But as it happened, Dominic easily stepped over his foot and laid the tray gently down on the coffee table. Carefully pouring out the tea into the four cups, he stood back. “Your tea, sirs and madams,” he said politely, moving to stand somewhere unobtrusive where he could refill if needed.

Of course, the place he had chosen to stand was directly opposite Matthew, and he was still wearing that infuriating smirk on his face. Joie sat up slightly, and quickly Matthew’s thoughts of the glouglou dissipated.

“Matthew,” Joie said, and for a second the man in question thought it sounded better than the reverent way Adora said it. “We’ll send someone to collect you on the morning of your audition; your principal songwriter, who will also be your accompanist, may attend if you so wish, but no one else. This allows the Vieillesse to ask questions about the song to both of you, and if we wish to change it - to make your audition as perfect as possible, of course - this can be done with someone who can compose music. Then, we’ll either contact you if not all criteria have been filled, or you’ll be snatched in the dead of night.”

Dominic’s eyes widened slightly at this, and Matthew’s face paled. Joie let out a short burst of musical laughter, her hand daintily touching Paix’s knee. “Of course, it’s painless. We wouldn’t want to hurt our future Unique,” she said with a smile. “Paix,  _allons-y_.”

Wordlessly, Paix and Joie stood from the sofa, their cups of tea untouched. Joie’s impossibly tall white heels clicked against the wooden floor in the hallway. Agostino had been hot on their heels as they left the room, the twins informing him that they were off to see the rooms used for the hiding process, Cachant. Soon, they were out of the house, and Matthew was one step closer to his dream.


	11. dénivellation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on with frayed tensions and warnings...

The days rolled by, much as they had always done. A week after their argument, and with the knowledge that Matthew was indeed in the running to become a Unique, Dominic found himself sitting by the fireplace with a copy of Le Monde loose in his hands. His mother was crashing about in the kitchen, the sounds of pots and pans ringing throughout the house. The rational part of his mind gently reminded him that he should probably ask if she needed any help, while the obsessive part, the part stuck on the fickle entity known as revenge, staunchly reasoned that if he did ask, she would simply refuse his help anyway. Why waste his time and hers by asking in the first place?

He moved to sit with his back resting against the battered armchair that nobody had sat in since his father’s death. Opening the newspaper, he began to flip through the pages until he found Voix Watch. There was a picture of Matthew splayed across the page, though not on his own. He was with _Adora_.

She was the one problem, the one fault in his otherwise perfect plan. Adora Constantine. The little girl Matthew had grown up with, the girl that he professed to love. Dominic scoffed, his eyes focused on her smiling face as she and Matthew walked hand in hand.

_Le Monde_  was reporting on their selection, of course. The newspaper had been doing so for three days now, when it had been officially recognised that they were in the running to be the next Uniques. It was beginning to wear on Dom. The newspaper had successfully reminded him that with the quick approval of Matthew as a Unique-in-waiting, he had less time to break the Voix’s admittedly iron resolve. Every time they spoke, it seemed, they deteriorated into a fight. Not that they’d spoken since the incident in Dominic’s office, a week ago. He had seen nothing of Matthew for the whole week, and his lack of appearance was beginning to make Dominic nervous.

“Dom, you look like there’s a little gnome inside your head, hitting your brain with a hammer. What’s up?”

Dominic blinked, shaking his head and looking up at Nancy, who was standing above him with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. He stared at her for a moment or two. “Sod off, Nancy,” he said eventually.

“Well excuse me for being interested in my baby brother’s well-being!” Nancy said, apparently wounded. She sat down on the sofa, curling her legs up beside her and watching him with her head tilted to the side. “Seriously, Dom. You haven’t said a word in days. What are you thinking?”

Dominic gritted his teeth, wondering when it was that his sister got so infuriatingly nosy. “I _said_ ,” he snarled, “sod off. So just give me some space, and shut the hell up, okay?”

Nancy seemed to have understood that he didn’t  _want_  to spill his every emotion to her, for she lapsed into silence. Relaxing slightly, Dom flipped back to Voix Watch, scanning over the article. It was the same as every other pathetic, pointless, simpering article that had been in its place over the past three days. He didn’t know why they bothered to publish it. There wasn’t a person under the sun, either Voix or glouglou, that wasn’t aware of Matthew Bellamy and his glorious existence.

“Dom?”

Nancy was trying to talk to him again. With a deep breath, he turned towards his sister and swallowed down the urge to throw something at her. “ _What_?” he snapped.

“Dom, what’s wrong with you?” Nancy’s voice was small, as if she was hiding away from him. The fact that she was desperately trying not to look at him wasn’t exactly comforting, either. “Ever since Dad... since he...” she shook her head, standing up and moving to sit in the chair that he was leaning against. “Dom, you’re not yourself, and it’s scaring me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Dominic didn’t reply, staring fixedly at his fingers for as long as he could manage. “You’re sitting in Dad’s chair,” he said eventually, his voice numb.

“Oh, because that’s the most important thing right now,” Nancy said bitterly. “It’s a _chair_ , Dom. I know you miss him, but there’s no need to build him a shrine. I miss him too. The only man I have in my life right now is you, and you won’t even look at me without spitting fire.” Her voice softened, a hand touching his shoulder. “Just... if there’s anything you want to tell me, Nicky, just  _tell_  me. I’m your sister.”

Dom pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He could tell her. He could tell her everything. About Agostino Bellamy, and his father’s murder, and his plan. He could tell her about what he was doing to Matthew, and he could tell her about the things he planned to do in the future. He could tell her all of this. It would be such a weight off his chest, not to have it all to himself. Just to let somebody else in, somebody he trusted completely and without a shadow of a doubt...

He turned to his sister, looking at her expectant smile, and shook his head. “I don’t have anything to tell you, Nancy. Go away.”

And she did.

*

Matthew didn’t bother knocking when he entered Dominic’s office, four days before his audition. He found the glouglou with his back to him, looking at the piano with his head cocked to the side. Glancing around, the Voix found there to be many more sheets of paper than his last visit, and the bin was overflowing with crumpled paper balls.

“Hello,” Matthew said somewhat curtly, Dominic visibly jumping and turning around.

“Christ,” Dominic said, clutching a hand to his chest. The other was holding a few sheets of paper. “You could’ve knocked, at least,” he snapped, looking Matthew up and down. The Voix was wearing skinny white jeans and a tight fitting white t-shirt with black braces. Dominic gulped.

“I don’t have to, it’s my house,” Matthew said, as if someone had asked him what colour the sky was. “Now, do you have my song for me?”

“Yes,” Dominic immediately said, a grin breaking out on his face. Matthew could tell without even asking that he was proud of the song, and for that fact alone he respected Dominic in that moment. Beckoning him over to the piano with a hand gesture, Dominic pushed a bundle of papers out of the way to sit on the stool.

“Here, the lyrics,” he said, stuffing two sheets of paper into the pale, outstretched hand. “Do you want me to talk you through them?” Dominic asked, his hands automatically running up and down the keys in two octaves as he looked over his shoulder up at Matthew.

“I...” Matthew couldn’t find the right words to say. It all _fitted_ ; every single lyric made sense, yet the song wasn’t outwardly simple. The bridge and chorus repeated, but Matthew knew that it was for meaning, for performance. Mouth opening and closing, he couldn’t quite find the right words; his throat felt tight and his fingers flexed. “It’s perfect.”

He looked up in time to see Dominic turn back to the piano, his cheeks stained rouge. “I’ll play the melody, mouthing along so you get the idea,” he instructed, the art of teaching a Voix how to sing a certain melody quite a difficult one to master. Now, Dominic was running solely on his instincts and his fuzzying memories of his father’s technique.

“Okay,” Matthew said, plopping down without warning next to Dominic on the piano stool. The glouglou shuffled about his papers resting against the piano, both music and lyrics ready to meet for the first time.

Dominic began to play, his fingers much more sure of themselves than the first time he had played for Matthew, to Matthew. His mouth formed the silent words as his right hand picked out the melody, forgoing some of the chords to allow Matthew to pick up the tune. By the second bridge, Matthew was quietly singing along at his side, nodding and making faces at himself if Dominic’s fingers didn’t quite work in time with his mouth.

By the time that the final chords rang out and hung in the air between them, Matthew was smiling. “I love it,” he simply said, a small smile tilting the corners of his thin lips upwards. Dominic nodded in respect, hands unable to remain still in such close proximity to the man who was, ultimately, his victim.

“Do you want to run through it again?”

Matthew nodded. As the sun began to set in the sky, they practiced the song over and over, Matthew finally feeling like he was connecting to the song more, after Dominic suggested during a bolt of courage that the Voix picture he was singing to a certain someone. He didn’t dare ask who.

“There’s still something not quite right,” Dominic said as he stretched his aching fingers. When Matthew decided they could stop, they would stop. It wasn’t his place to ask.

“Did you actually have my voice in mind when you wrote this?” Matthew snapped, his _nice_  attitude from the afternoon slipping away with the going down of the sun.

“Yeah...” the glouglou said distractedly, looking out of the window at the orange sky. “Your voice is almost _too_  perfect, though,” he said, looking up at Matthew’s face and expecting a smug smile. Instead, he looked almost upset, staring down at his feet. A true perfectionist. “It needs to be... more broken. More exasperated. You know,  _this could be the end of everything_ , he’s  _desperate_  to make it all okay.”

“What do you suggest?” Matthew said quietly.

Dominic didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he looked at Matthew and allowed a smirk to form on his lips, the Voix quirking his eyebrow at him. He stood up from the piano stool, moving to kneel on his desk to reach the high window. Cracking it open and watching the dust swirl and tango in the sunrays, he jumped back down onto the floor.

“My father sometimes had trouble relaxing,” Dominic said, beginning to search the drawers and rifling through the contents of each one. “So he’d keep a box of what I’m about to show you, somewhere...”

“Dom, what are you talking about?”

Dominic looked up. It was the first time Matthew had ever referred to him by name without saying it like it would burn his tongue. It also occurred to him that the luxury Fleck used to keep was unheard of in polite Voix circles.

“Aha!” Dom said, pulling out a box of cigarettes. “My father’s writing aid,” he said with a sad smile.

Matthew looked at him as if he had just pulled a rabbit out of a top hat, eyes on stalks. “What... what are those?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Dominic deftly opened the packet and pulled out a single cigarette. “Cigarettes,” he said. “No, they’re not illegal before you ask, Mr Goody-Two-Shoes, and they’re not going to damage your voice. My mother even told me that one time, in her youth, Joie smoked a whole carton of these before recording the vocals for what is still the best song of all time,” Dominic said with a nod, gesturing with the white stick towards Matthew. The Voix stood still, dumbfounded.

“You smoke them,” Dom continued. “Watch.”

Dom placed the filter in his mouth, fishing out a lighter from the back of the drawer and lighting the cigarette. Letting out a contented hum, he plucked the lit cigarette from between his lips and blew out a stream of smoke.

“Try it,” he said, placing the cigarette between Matthew’s index and middle fingers. Whilst Matthew glared at the offensive object in his hand, Dominic unearthed an ashtray from all the clutter in the drawer. “Go on, it won’t kill you. Well, not in that quantity anyway. And I don’t have any germs,” he said, when Matthew had not stopped glaring.

Sighing, the Voix put the unlit end between his lips and inhaled, instantly pulling it away from his mouth and coughing. Dominic allowed himself to roll his eyes this time as he stepped forward, wanting to help Matthew but his fear of the consequences only just won out. He stood up again, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Just... it’s really hard to explain,” Dom said, exasperated. “Try again, go on.”

Matthew huffed but did as he was told, bringing the cigarette to his lips once more. He inhaled, his eyes fluttering shut as he could feel the smoke curling inside him. Lips forming a perfect “o”, he blew the smoke and watched it fade into nothingness.

“And...?” Dominic asked, watching Matthew take another drag. It hurt his pride to admit it, but the sight of Matthew Bellamy being corrupted by his own devices was more erotic than he’d ever thought it would be. The way his eyelashes would brush upon his cheekbones, the way his cheeks would hollow as he sucked, the way his eyes sparkled just that little bit more...

“I like it,” Matthew admitted with a toothy grin. “Now, how many of these do I need to smoke before my voice sounds right?”

Dominic laughed, throwing his head back at the thought of Matthew’s voice not being _right_. After a full afternoon of working with the Voix, his voice was actually beginning to become appealing, appeasing...

“Just the one should do the trick, I can hear it on your voice already,” he said, licking his lips. Matthew shook his head imperceptibly, tapping the excess ash into the glass dish in Dominic’s palm and finishing off the cigarette. As he did so, he carefully regarded the glouglou, with all his tanned skin and wide grey eyes and unruly hair. The glouglou with the red cheeks, the wide irises and the slightest sheen of sweat where his t-shirt failed to cover all of his chest.

“There,” Matthew said, a definite husk to his voice as he dropped the extinguished butt of the cigarette into the ashtray. “Another round?”

Dom swallowed dryly, cursing at the more animal side of his mind that didn’t take _another round_  to be a run-through of the song.

He didn’t want to fall for Matthew, at all. His plan was to make Matthew fall for him, and that only. As long as he could manipulate the other man’s feelings, his hatred for Agostino could simmer away quietly, and his grief for his late father would slowly fade away, knowing justice had been exacted. Now, as he listened to Matthew’s raspy, husky voice singing the song and the end of each line positively dripping with sex, Dominic found it very difficult to keep his feet on the pedals and resist the urge to cross his legs tightly.

“That... that was good,” Matthew panted. Dominic found it hard not to pant also, so he merely nodded and bit his lip. “I think we should leave it for tonight.”

“I agree,” Dom rushed to say, their eyes accidentally meeting and breaking away. “I mean, if I may, I need to go home and help my mother--”

“Yes, yes,” Matthew said distractedly. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dominic grabbed his messenger bag and almost bolted from the room, the air in the main part of the Bellamy mansion much cooler against his heated skin. It would’ve been too easy, then, to whisper just the tiniest thing to the Voix and watch him melt before his eyes, before crashing their lips together. “Too easy,” Dominic said to himself as he walked towards the worker’s entrance. The glouglou had to remind himself that Matthew was meant to come to him, and not the other way round.

He resurfaced from his thoughts just in time to hear a loud clunk. He stopped walking, bending down to pick up a sketchbook that had apparently been dropped to the floor. Standing up again, he turned to see a woman walking quickly along the corridor, evidently unaware that she had lost her book.

“Miss!” Dom called out, the sight of the woman’s long blonde hair a sign that he should be polite. “Miss, I think you dropped this.”

She turned on her heel, walking back towards him and giving him a grateful smile as she took the book from his hands. “Thank you,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I’d lost it.”

Dom forced a smile onto his face, despite the fact that he was standing face to face with Adora Constantine, the only woman who could completely ruin his plan for revenge.

“Thank you again,” she said, her voice practically dripping with the sweet smell of lavender and frolicking through the meadows. “Have a nice night.” And with that she turned away, walking briskly down the corridor again.

Dom waited until she had gone until he bent down to pick up the piece of paper that had fallen from her sketchbook. Flipping it over onto the side she had drawn on, his stomach flipped at the sight of a charcoal sketch of Matthew, signed in the corner with her flowing signature. Without thinking, he slipped it into his bag, before turning to leave for the night.

*

“Matthew? Can I come in?”

“Yes, Aleksandr.”

Aleksandr carefully pushed his bedroom door open, having being directed to one of the dozens by Calliope. After a rather vague and somewhat distressing call from his best friend, the older Voix had raced across their district in St Pierre to be with him.

Matthew had realised that he could really do with a friend right now. Not a mother or father or _girl_ friend, just someone who would listen and who could be sworn to secrecy. Someone who knew what to do in every situation. Someone like Aleksandr.

They had met at Matthew’s first rehearsal for Les Voix du Monde, when Matthew was only five and the youngest boy ever to join the famous choir. Aleksandr had only been with the choir for a few more months, but at the age of seven he had been happy to show Matthew around the grand buildings they rehearsed in. Best friends ever since, Aleksandr insisted that he’d always known Matthew would become an Unique, and still stuck by that opinion to this day.

Matthew was curled up on one side of his vast bed, the room dark and only lit by the moonlight coming through the window. The first thing Aleksandr did was to switch on the lamp on Matthew’s bedside table. “Matthew, what on earth is the matter?” he asked, sitting heavily at Matthew’s side and watching the Unique-to-be pull his head out of his arms.

“I need to swear you to secrecy,” he said in a deadly serious tone. Aleksandr rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Again? I swear, the first time you did that was--”

“--over stealing a cookie from my mother’s batch when I was five, Aleksandr, I know.” Matthew sat up, leaning his head heavily against his friend’s broad shoulder, like he always would when he was troubled. Matthew was a very touchy-feely person and craved physical contact, so he was glad that his mother, girlfriend and best friend were comfortable with it.

“It seems serious,” Aleksandr said in a cautious tone.

“It is,” Matthew said. “I need you to help me, but first I need you to promise you won’t tell Adora.” He gulped when his throat closed up upon uttering her name. “I know you’re cousins, but... you just _can’t_ , Aleksandr. It would break her.”

“Matthew, I’m actually worried now. What’s happened? Have you argued?”

“No, I...” Gripping his hair tight, Matthew fell back onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling just as he had a week earlier, thinking of that glouglou... “I’m so confused.”

“About the Unique thing? Because you know I can’t help you there, _mon ami_. You’re better off asking--”

“It’s not about that.” Matthew’s tone made Aleksandr emit a small _oh_  sound, the pair lapsing into silence and listening to a nearby owl hooting. The older Voix knew better than anyone else that Matthew would eventually tell, once given time. Seconds, minutes, hours passed before Matthew opened his mouth once more.

“Do you know the glouglou who died on my birthday?” Aleksandr nodded. “He was my principal songwriter, and his son has now taken over that job.”

Matthew paused, watching Aleksandr trying to work out how that has any relevance to his cousin.

“The night he died, it was my birthday party. Father and I visited Sector 3 to see the party there, and me and the glouglou were forced to dance.”

“Dancing? That’s... strange. I can’t remember the last time I danced.”

“It wasn’t just _a dance_ , though. The glouglous take it really seriously, and this was some kind of special dance, almost something... sexual,” Matthew said, looking up at the ceiling and allowing it to be a canvas for his memories. “It was weird, I enjoyed it,” he admitted with a whisper.

“A glouglou... a _male_  glouglou...” Aleksandr muttered, looking over his shoulder back at Matthew. Their eyes locked, and Matthew nodded a tiny amount. “Matthew, you shouldn’t have done that. You just need to forget it and--”

“No!” Matthew almost shouted, sitting back up in an instant. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t. I have an audition in four days and he’s my _songwriter_. We’re working together to rehearse, he has to be my accompanist--”

“You have the music and lyrics, right?” Matthew nodded at his friend’s question. “Well, then. Practice it with another glouglou, _any_  damn cassé. I know what you’re like, Matthew. What you want, you get, but not this time.”

Matthew blinked, considering the idea. He didn’t have to spend so long with that wretched glouglou, after all. He could spend the next four days rehearsing with someone else, but he knew that he’d prefer to spend them in the cramped office with _him._  What’s more, he knew it from the bottom of his heart.

“The song’s so personal, too...” Matthew said, looking down at his hands.

“Matthew James Bellamy, look at me.” Aleksandr gripped Matthew by the shoulders and turned him so he couldn’t escape his stare. “I am telling you now: you go down that rabbit hole and you won’t come back out, Alice. You’ll never be the Unique you strive to be, and you’ll lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you. You’ve told Adora, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I’ll ring her now and see if she--”

“Don’t you dare,” Matthew growled, and in that instant he knew he had done wrong. Aleksandr’s outstretched arm stilled, fingers barely brushing the white casing of Matthew’s telephone.

“You haven’t told her.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

“She doesn’t need to know. I told you, it’d break her.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Matthew. The woman you’re going to marry, have a child with, spend the rest of your _life_  loving. You should be prepared to tell her anything. Secrets will rot your relationship.”

“I don’t care!” Matthew screamed, standing up from the bed. He paced over to the balcony, wondering for a split second if it would hurt to jump from a second floor window.

Aleksandr paused, blue eyes wide as he watched Matthew. His slim frame was shaking, but at the distance Matthew had put between them, he couldn’t tell if it was through anger or sobbing. “Calm down, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it then?” Matthew asked with venom in his voice. “You’ve never had a serious girlfriend, you’ll never be a Unique, how the _fuck_  do you know anything?”

Aleksandr’s mouth popped open at Matthew’s use of a glouglou swear word, and at the verbal assault. He swallowed and tipped his chin up slightly, looking down his nose at his so-called friend. “You’ve changed, Matthew,” he said, as he stood up and began to walk towards the door. “An ugly monster has reared its head inside you, and I don’t want to be around to see if it takes you over or eats you alive.”

With that, Aleksandr was gone.


	12. douleur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love hurts, friendship hurts, hatred hurts...

The weather didn’t match Matthew’s mood at all.  
  
He seemed to be arguing with everyone lately. It didn’t help that the arguments kept him awake at night, meaning that he was considerably grumpier the next day due to lack of sleep. It was a tormenting cycle and one that he couldn’t seem to escape. He should have been happy: he was going to be a Unique, something he had wanted ever since he was a small boy.  
  
He was standing under the shade of a large parasol, the glare of the sun reflecting off white tiles hurting his eyes. He wanted it to  _rain_. It never rained in St Pierre, not at this time of year at least. But more than anything, he was desperate for it to rain, for the skies to open. He wanted the clouds to gather, grey and foreboding, and soak him to the bone with icy cold water. But the sky remained petulantly blue, not a cloud to be seen.  
  
Matthew tried to remember the last time he’d seen a grey storm. He gulped.  
  
He gave a long sigh and stepped out from under the parasol, shading his eyes as he took a plunge into the infinity pool at the back of the house. Dipping his head under the cool water, he blew out a stream of bubbles and swam to the edge, looking out over the sea with a light frown creasing the corners of his eyes. Aleksandr’s words from the previous night were still echoing around in his head. He hadn’t  _meant_  to be so callous. He hadn’t  _meant_  to shout at him. He hadn’t meant any of it. But the fact remained that he’d done it, and his friend wouldn’t hear his excuses.  
  
Matthew leaned against the edge of the pool, sweeping his dripping blond hair back from his eyes. It hit him suddenly that when - he refused to say  _if_  - he became a Unique, his hair would be blacker than midnight. He tried to imagine Adora with dark hair, forming her face in his mind as his hand absently rubbed against his flat stomach.  
  
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” a soft voice said from behind him, and he turned to see his girlfriend smiling directly behind him. Her blonde hair hung in wet ringlets from her swim over to him. He leaned closer and planted an obligatory kiss to the corner of her mouth. “What are you doing out here?”  
  
“Thinking,” he replied as her arms slipped around his waist. “Did you want to talk about something?” he asked.  
  
She shook her head, turning to look at the view that surrounded them. “It’s so beautiful here,” she breathed, resting her head on his shoulder.  
  
Matthew blinked, nodding stiffly. “It is, isn’t it?” he said. Adora seemed much quieter than usual, and Matthew’s heart hammered in his chest at the thought of her knowing what troubles had been plaguing him.  
  
“Has Aleksandr spoken to you this morning?” he asked, her eyebrows raising quaintly at his question.  
  
“Yes, in fact he has.” Her pause was enough to make Matthew feel dizzy with the weight of everything that could go wrong.  _This could be the end of everything..._  
  
“It was just to tell me that  _you_ ,” she paused, pressing an extended finger into the middle of Matthew’s chest, “have been awfully stressed this week, and he told me to give you some extra love.”  
  
Giggling nervously, Matthew sunk down into the water slightly, so his head was level with Adora’s. “That was very kind of him,” he said, “but I haven’t been that bad, have I?”  
  
“Well...” Adora began, squirming slightly. She loosened her grip on Matthew’s waist to run a hand through his hair, styling it using the water still in it. “You’ve been a bit antisocial, but haven’t we both? I’ve been rehearsing with Jane and you’ve been with... what’s his name?”  
  
“Dominic.”  
  
“Hmm, strange name for a glouglou,” she said, pursing her lips. “Ah, I think he was the one who gave me my sketchbook last night! You know, the one I use for my life studies?” Matthew nodded. “Is he the fairly tall one, unfortunately large ears?”  
  
Matthew could think of many more redeeming qualities of Dominic, but he simply nodded.  
  
“Yes, he gave me my book. Very kind of him.” Adora sighed, leaning her head against Matthew’s shoulder as the watched a yacht glide through the bay, their fingers linking together loosely under the surface of the water. “What’s your song like, anyway?”  
  
“It’s...”  _A masterpiece. Beautiful, wonderful. Perfect. Like he read my mind._ “...very personal.” He settled for being vague, lest he praise the glouglou too much.  
  
“So is mine, Matthew, and I can tell you what mine’s about: us.”  
  
“Mine’s a secret, then. I’ll sing it to you after the audition, how about that?”  
  
“Darling, I’m not going to copy. I was just asking what it’s about.”  
  
“Maybe I don’t want to tell you what it’s about,” Matthew said petulantly, breaking their fingers apart.  
  
“Why are you being like this?” Adora asked, hurt lacing her sad words.  
  
“Why are  _you_  being like this?” Matthew said, seeing but not quite believing as Adora took a step back in the water, her hand covering her open mouth. “You’re being so clingy and... and...  _nosy_. Am I not allowed any privacy?”  
  
Adora shook her head sadly from side to side, running a hand through her hair. “I never said that. Of course you’re allowed privacy.”  
  
“Then give me some space,” Matthew said, barely keeping his fists by his sides. He felt so angry under all the stress piled on his shoulders, his mood swings draining him of all energy.  
  
“This isn’t you,” Adora said quietly, as she waded through the chest-high water to reach the side of the pool. Matthew averted his eyes from her bikini-clad body as she hauled herself out of the water. “You’ve got too much of your father’s blood in you,” she called from the side of the pool, picking up her white towel and strutting off to one of the back entrances to the mansion.  
  
Aleksandr, now Adora... who would be next? Matthew released a frustrated shout to the ocean as he wished he could sink to the bottom of the pool and put everyone out of their misery.  
  
Alas, the show must go on.

*

“Do you like me?”  
  
Dominic looked up from his desk, jerking in shock and spilling a tub of ink all over the table. Dropping his pen, he turned to see Matthew standing in the doorway, shoulders squared and teeth gritted. Dom moved out from behind his desk just in time to miss a drop of ink that would have stained his trousers otherwise. “Well hello to you too,” he said sourly, reaching for his box of tissues to try and mop up the damage.  
  
Matthew stepped further into the office, slamming the door closed behind him. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” he asked, his voice tense.  
  
Dom blinked, staring at Matthew while the ink spread out over the various things on his desk. “Your hair’s wet,” he said. “Has it been raining?”  
  
Matthew ignored his question, striding over to him. It seemed as if the Voix was going to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, but for some reason he stopped, throwing himself onto the piano stool and shaking his head bitterly. “No. I went for a swim. It’s too hot outside.” He raised a hand to his face, chewing on his thumbnail distractedly before he spoke again. “I asked you a question.”  
  
Dom looked up. “You did?” he replied, eyebrows raised.  
  
“Yes,  _Dominic_ , I did. And I’d appreciate it if you answered me.”  
  
Resisting the urge to give Matthew a patronising smile, he simply nodded. “You seem tense,” he said. “Why don’t you just take a few deep breaths and--”  
  
“Am I a bad person or aren’t I?” Matthew said loudly, actually banging his fist on the piano stool in his anger. “Just answer the fucking question!”  
  
Dom decided that perhaps it would be a good time to stop antagonising him. “No. You’re not.”  
  
His answer, though relatively simple, seemed to have mystified the Voix. “You... you don’t think I’m bad?” Matthew asked, disbelief in his voice.  
  
“No, I don’t,” Dom said again. “You might be obsessive and spoiled and rude, but... you’re not a bad person. I can think of worse people than you.”  _Like your father_. “And besides, you’re not rude all the time either. Just when you don’t get what you want. Which is rare.”  
  
Matthew’s lips curled upwards into a slight smile. “I suppose that’s meant to be a compliment.”  
  
Dom shrugged. “If you want it to be,” he said cryptically. “Now, while you’re here, do you want to have another run of the song?”  
  
The Voix shifted in his seat, standing up. “Not at the minute. I don’t think it’s the best thing for me to be doing right now.”  
  
Dominic nodded, turning back to his desk. “Ah,  _shit_ ,” he said, rescuing a solitary piece of paper. Black ink had soaked into the corner, a splodge covering the signature that had been there. He shook it, getting rid of the remaining droplets, and was about to stuff it in a drawer when he felt Matthew’s eyes burning into the back of his neck.  
  
“Why do you have a picture of me on your desk?” the Voix asked curiously.  
  
Dom looked down at the piece of paper, the sketch of Matthew he had found when Adora Constantine had dropped her sketchbook the night before. He’d slipped it into his bag without really thinking about it, and midway through the day he’d suddenly remembered that it was there, taking it out for reasons unknown. It had been sitting on his desk for the whole day.  
  
Matthew stepped closer to him, gently taking the picture from Dom’s unresisting fingers. “It... it’s very good,” he said in a small voice, a rosy blush tinting his cheeks. “Did you draw it?”  
  
Dom held back a laugh, rather unsuccessfully. He snorted, shaking his head. “No, of course I didn’t! Your girlfriend dropped it. It fell out of her sketchbook last night and by the time I realised it was hers, she’d gone. I was going to give it to you, so you could give it back to her.”  
  
Matthew sucked in a long breath, shaking his head. “Keep it,” he said dismissively, but there was an edge to his voice that Dom couldn’t quite place. “She has enough pictures of me. It’s ruined, anyway.” He summed himself up, giving Dom a curt nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”  
  
And without another word, he left, leaving Dominic to stare with empty eyes down at the sketch and wonder just what he was doing to himself.  
  
The rest of the day passed quickly. Dominic had decided to bring a sandwich from home, unable to face sitting with the other household staff and pretending to be happy. Not only that, but glouglous would soon begin to exclude one of their own who began to befriend a Voix. When the Voix in question was Matthew Bellamy, Dominic was finding that he had many more acquaintances than people he could call friends.  
  
The afternoon was divided equally between his desk and his beloved piano. He practiced Matthew’s song, something that still remained untitled and he decided that when Matthew was in a better mood, they could title it together. He racked his brains as to why Matthew was being so  _volatile_  as his fingers glided up and down the keyboard. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done that would’ve set him off this time.  
  
Dominic also began writing a new song. Calliope had caught him in the corridor that morning as he had trudged towards his office, informing him in a surprisingly polite tone that Matthew would need a brand new song  _when_  he became an Unique. Nodding and thanking her for her time, Dominic had began jotting down ideas for the themes when Matthew had burst into his office that morning.  
  
As the sun began to set behind the rooftops of the surrounding mansions, and left to his own devices, Dominic began the walk home, purposefully making sure he didn’t bump into any of the household or its staff on the way out of the grounds.  
  
Dominic allowed himself to think of his father as he walked back to their tiny house in Sector 3. Would Fleck be proud of his son, writing a song that Master Bellamy actually  _liked_  from the first instant? Or would he sit his son down and talk about his petty plan for revenge, one that could hurt a lot of people, including himself?  
  
Most importantly, would Fleck be judgemental of his son if it turned out, say, that he liked men more than women?  
  
Dominic shook his head to himself as he reached his house, his left hand reaching for the doorknob when he heard an infuriatingly familiar voice.  
  
“...and let me tell you, that’s the last time I went to  _that_  bar for a pint.”  
  
Taking a deep breath, Dom opened the door to see Lysander Fletcher making himself at home in a house that was definitely  _not_  his. He reclined in one of the wooden chairs around the kitchen table, with his legs outstretched and shoes on the surface Dominic and his family had to eat on every day. Nancy was standing against a counter with her arms crossed against her chest, and Annie was nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Ey, look who’s here!” Lysander yelled, jumping up from his seat with his arms wide. “There ’e is, the man of the moment!  _Dom’nic_! ‘Ow the devil are ya? I was just havin’ a bit of a chinwag with your sister ’ere, tellin’ ’er about--”  
  
“Why are you  _here_?” Dom asked, glancing over at his twin.  
  
Lysander gave a tiny shrug. “Fancied poppin’ ’round to ’ave a little chat, is all.” After a glare from Dom, he held up his hands. “Alright, alright, so maybe I should get straight to the point.”  
  
There was a beat of silence.  
  
“Well go on then,” Dominic pressed. “Get straight to the point.”  
  
Nancy gave out a tiny whimper, hugging her arms closer to her chest and closing her eyes at Dom’s impertinence.  
  
“Fine!  _Jesus_ , you’re cranky,” Lysander mumbled. “I came,” he said slowly, as if he doubted Dominic’s intelligence, “to collect my interest.”  
  
The impact of his words punched into Dom’s chest, and he took a step closer towards the Voix. “What do you mean,  _interest_?” he asked, though he had a pretty good idea.  
  
Lysander smirked. “You know perfectly well what I mean, pal. This delectable little creature over ’ere,” he said, stepping away from Dom to sling his arm around Nancy’s petrified shoulders. “Think of ’er as insurance.”  
  
Dom spoke through gritted teeth. “Get. Your hands.  _Off_. My sister,” he growled.  
  
“Bloody ’ell, mate, calm down. You’ll give yourself an aneurysm like that,” the Voix said with a lighthearted tone, though his arm slipped from around Nancy’s shoulders nonetheless.  
  
“C’mere, Nancy,” Dominic said stiffly, eyes still focused on Lysander. His sister obliged, but as soon as she turned her back on the Voix, he reached out and slapped her bum hard, his other hand gripping onto her narrow waist and pulling her back towards him. She shrieked and stumbled, looking up at her brother as she began to cry.  
  
"Are you as bloody stupid as you look? Did you honestly think that she was going to get away just 'cause you turned up an’ glared at me?" Lysander said, his build and strength easily overpowering Nancy, catching both her wrists and pinning them behind her back. “You’ll see her again,” he leered, licking the shell of her ear, “under red lights down in Section 1.”  
  
“I’ll ask you one. More. Time,” Dominic spat, his hands in fists at his sides. “Let go of my sister.”  
  
“Or what, you’ll ‘urt me? Knock me off? Stab me in the dark like that Agostino did to your bastard of a father?”  
  
Dominic lunged, pushing Nancy out of the way as his left fist collided with the Voix’s jawbone. Lysander shouted, one hand cradling his face whilst the other gripped the kitchen table for support.  
  
“Take him outside,” a quiet voice said. Dominic looked up, teeth gritted and eyes shining with fury. “Dominic,” Nancy said purposefully. She was rubbing one of her wrists. “I want him out of the house. Just... get him out of here, send him home,” she said with a sob. Turning and running upstairs, the two men were left alone in the house. Wordlessly, Dominic grabbed the back of Lysander’s collar and dragged him outside through the back door, into a deserted alley.  
  
“Dom, mate, chum, let’s talk--”  
  
“I am  _not_ your mate,” Dominic snarled, shoving Lysander up against a brick wall. “And you deserve everything you’re getting tonight.” With that, Dominic pulled his left fist back to his ear and punched Lysander square on the nose. The Voix’s legs shifted from under him. He slipped down the wall a few inches, Dom grimly holding onto his shoulder to keep him up. “Stay away from my sister,” he grunted, each word punctuated with a punch, before he finally grabbed a chunk of blond hair and slammed his head against the wall. He let Lysander fall, watching him slide to the ground, blood trickling from his nose.  
  
Dominic looked down at Lysander, chest heaving with exertion and fists already bloody. He watched the Voix keel over to the side, rolling onto his back, his face a mess. Dominic raised a foot, bringing it down heavily on his nose and hearing a satisfying  _crack_.  
  
“Oi!” yelled a voice, and Dom spun around, his heart in his throat. He relaxed visibly, his shoulders slouching as he recognised the broad shoulders of Scrap, who was hurrying towards him. “What the  _hell_ is going on?” he called, skidding to a halt by Lysander, who had somehow managed to pull himself up again, his nose twisted to the side and blood streaming freely from it. “Dom?” Scrap grabbed his friend by the shoulders, concern written into his features. “Who is that?” Scrap looked past Dom at Lysander, who was now hugging the wall in an attempt to stay standing. “Jesus Christ, that’s the bastard who sold my sister!” Scrap yelled suddenly, pushing Dom aside to kick Lysander firmly in the groin.  
  
Dom gave a thin smile, stepping back a little to let Scrap loose on the Voix who had ruined his family’s life. Out of the corner of his eye, Dominic could see a shadow lingering just around the corner of the alley.  
  
“That fucker raped my wife,” the voice said quietly. “May I?”  
  
Nodding, Dominic stepped back and allowed the man to step forward. He was short and stocky, the perfect build for a boxer. He picked a blubbering Lysander up by his throat and punched him in the ribs, a deafening crack resonating in the alley.  
  
Slowly, a small crowd began to form. Some lingered in the background, standing on tiptoes to see what was essentially a fallen angel, broken and bleeding in the gutter. Others would step forward, revealing a disgusting act Lysander had committed, before taking out their revenge on the inhuman punch bag.  
  
“Move! Warden on the main street!” someone yelled, the glouglous scattering to leave Lysander to bleed over the cobbles.

*

The slam of the back door alerted Nancy to two things: Dominic was home and, more importantly, he was angry. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she crept out from their bedroom and slowly made her way downstairs to see him kick furiously at their father’s armchair once, before flopping like a sack of bones into it, legs hanging over the side.  
  
“Dommie?” Nancy whispered, edging closer. It had been so long since she had called him by that name. “Dommie, are you okay?” It was then that she noticed the blood on his fists, and the splatter of red dots over his shirt. She took a step back, clutching at the back of the sofa until her knuckles turned white. “What did you do?” she asked sharply, a contrast to her previous words.  
  
He turned to look at her, a sad smile on his face. “You told me to take him outside,” he said, with a short laugh. “So I did.” He paused, shrugging lightly. “It’s not my fault that he has a face a lot of people want to punch. He’s still out there, if you want to go and have a look.”  
  
Nancy’s eyes filled with tears again at her brother’s emotionless words. “What happened to you, Dom?” she asked, her voice shaking. “You’re not...  _you_  anymore. You’re scaring me.” Fresh tears began to roll down her cheeks, prompting her twin to shift from his seat and rush towards her. His hand outstretched, he moved to touch her shoulder, to pull her into a hug, but she slapped it away, unwilling to let him touch her. “I’m not going to tell mum,” she said firmly, though her entire body was shaking. “But we’re going to talk about this, Dom. When you’re not... inebriated.”  
  
Dominic took a step away, hands at his sides again. “You want to talk?” he said harshly. “Fine. Let’s talk. What do you want to talk about? About how I cracked his skull? Or maybe about how I stood on his nose? Or how about that moment when he was trying to take you away and I  _stopped_ him? How about that?” His hands curled into fists once more. “How the fuck can you throw it back in my face? I  _helped_ you. I  _saved_  you from him.”  
  
“Yes, Dom, and I’m grateful,” Nancy replied, exasperated. “I really am. It’s just that once you’d done it, didn’t you think to just leave him  _alone_? If he ever tells  _anyone_  what happened, you’ll just drag another tragedy onto this family. And to be honest, I don’t think mum can take it.”  
  
Dominic closed his eyes for a moment, taking a long, deep breath. “Don’t bring mum into this,” he said eventually, his eyes snapping open only to glare at her. “This is all about  _you_ , isn’t it? You’re just sad because now, with  _him_  gone--” he paused to jerk his head towards the back door “--nobody wants you anymore.”  
  
A stunned silence followed his words, to be broken only by Nancy’s palm slapping his cheek. She watched, her hand stinging, as he stood silently with his head tilted to the side. “Get a hold of yourself, Dominic,” she mumbled. “What would dad think if he saw you right now?”  
  
And to her utter surprise, tears began to fall from his eyes. Slowly at first, but gathering pace until they rolled down his cheeks like rain on the windows. “I’m so sorry, Nancy,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry.”


	13. cernes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every action has an equal and opposite reaction...

It was almost midnight when Matthew decided that he couldn’t sleep.  
  
Sitting bolt upright in his bed, he ran a hand through his hair and swung his legs over the side, bare feet hitting carpet and toes automatically scrunching up in the soft pile fabric. He walked slowly over to his bedroom door, quietly turning the handle and stepping out onto the landing. Shivering, he closed the door behind him and made his way slowly downstairs, clinging to the edge of the grand staircase for fear of making a noise. He didn’t want to wake his father.  
  
He didn’t have a conscious idea of where he was going, but his feet were taking him somewhere and that somewhere, he almost surprised himself to know, was to Dominic’s office. He carefully opened the door, wincing at the creak, and slipped inside, hugging himself in the cool air. He slipped past the waste paper basket, past the battered old piano, behind the desk, and sat himself down in Dominic’s chair.  
  
The surface of the desk had been stained by the ink spillage earlier in the day. When his eyes blurred, Matthew found the shape to look somewhat like Adora, but perhaps that was only because he was feeling guilty. Their argument had been ringing around in his head ever since it had happened - he had needed someone,  _anyone_ , to tell him that he wasn’t completely hated, and that person just so happened to be Dominic.  
  
Then he had seen the picture. The sketch that had been sitting on Dominic’s desk, that the glouglou had gone out of his way to protect from being ruined by the ink. And when Matthew had asked if Dominic had drawn it himself, he’d been laughed at.  
  
Matthew’s cheeks flamed at the thought. How  _stupid_  he had been, to think that Dominic would draw pictures of him. Just thinking about it now made his skin crawl. Dominic had absolutely no reason to be fawning over him. He was employed by the Bellamy family, after all. They weren’t even  _friends_. Matthew was kidding himself in thinking that Dominic had some kind of obsession with him that qualified him to be wasting his time drawing pictures.  
  
It was strange, even as he sat in the glouglou’s office and inhaled the scent of cigarette smoke and Dominic, that he was even troubled by such thoughts. Looking good for Dominic had suddenly shifted to a main priority. He wanted to  _impress_  him, show him that he wasn’t just a pretty face. He wanted to make Dominic realise that he was different. But he wasn’t different.  
  
He remembered the first time he’d properly seen Dominic, when they were standing in the dining room, under Agostino’s scrutiny.  _“Can’t we just have him hanged, father?”_  he had asked. Closing his eyes, he rubbed a hand over his face and let out a sigh. He was so afraid: afraid for the future, afraid for Adora, afraid for his mother... afraid  _of_  his father. Agostino was a force, a terrifying gale wind that held him back from the things he wanted to do. His father’s wishes were his wishes. But at the same time, his own failures were his father’s embarrassment. He knew how his father took to public ridicule, and this silly attraction he had developed to Dominic - to a glouglou, of all things - had to stop right now, before someone worked it out.  
  
The sound of voices drifted past the room. He dropped his feet to the floor again, looking up with a frown. Agostino Bellamy had walked past the room only seconds ago, talking to someone. With the unquenchable affliction that is curiosity, Matthew poked his head out of the office to see a Voix limping hurriedly after his father. They disappeared around a corner and, without thinking, Matthew began to follow them.  
  
They arrived eventually at his father’s study. Holding his breath, he hid behind a large potted plant until the door had slammed closed, peeking through the leaves before creeping over to the door. He stood perfectly still, listening hard.  
  
“...and then a load of them bloody cassés jumped me, boss!” Matthew recognised the voice of Lysander, the man he had heard many days before discussing the death of Dominic’s father. “Dunno where they all-- Ah, bloody ’ell, man! What’s that you’re puttin’ on me? Stings like a slap on the arse!”  
  
“It’s antiseptic, you  _fool_ , and stop squirming around,” Agostino’s voice replied sharply. “Who did you say started it off?”  
  
“I... don’t remember, boss,” Lysander said, and even without looking at the man, Matthew could tell that he was lying.  
  
“ _Liar_ ,” Agostino hissed. “You know who it was. Tell me the truth.”  
  
Lysander was quiet for a very long time before he spoke. “Dom’nic 815231184,” he said.  
  
Matthew paled.  
  
Agostino’s voice was sharp. “Are you  _sure_?” he asked coldly.  
  
“‘Course I bloody well am,” Lysander replied, apparently offended. “Are you done now? Only I’d like to get some sleep an’ all that.”  
  
“Yes. Go.” Agostino seemed distracted. There were a few fumbling sounds, and a groan as Lysander stood up. Matthew suckered himself to the wall by the door, holding his breath as the door swung open and the younger Voix hobbled out. Though his major wounds had already begun to heal, his nose had clearly been broken and most of his skin and clothes were dotted with blood. He looked as if someone had pushed him into a crowd of starved lions.  
  
Hardly able to believe his eyes, Matthew waited until the door had slammed closed behind him before he darted towards the stairs. He didn’t know how long his father was going to be inside his office, but he knew that he did  _not_  want to be caught sneaking around late at night. Halfway up the stairs, however, he looked over his shoulder, chewing on his bottom lip. He was alone: his father wasn’t glaring angrily at him from the bottom of the stairs. There was nothing to be worried about. So why couldn’t he bring himself to go back to his room?  
  
Without really realising what he was doing, he had turned and made his quiet way downstairs again, feet cold against the floor. Eventually he arrived at Dominic’s office once again, pushing the door open and looking around. He slipped past the desk and settled himself in Dominic’s chair, hugging his legs to his chest and closing his eyes.

 

*

The last thing Dominic expected to see when he arrived for work in the morning was Matthew asleep in his chair. He moved quietly, in retrospect to his usual loud movements, placing his bag softly on the floor. His eyes began to wander over the pale skin of Matthew’s bare torso, gluing themselves to the sight one of his bony clavicles standing out clearly against his chest. His head rested against his knees, toes scrunched up against the edge of the chair. The awkward position of his body gave Dominic a wonderful view of his spine, the bones just catching the light.  
  
Dom moved closer, placing a warm hand against the Voix’s cold skin. “Matthew,” he whispered, giving the blond a gentle shake. “Matthew, wake up.”  
  
“Wha’?” Matthew’s eyes opened drowsily. He opened his mouth in a long yawn, stretching his arms above his head. He blinked several times, looking around the room with a confused frown, before his eyes finally landed on Dominic. “Mon  _Dieu_!” he said loudly, jumping up from the seat and hugging himself as if he was embarrassed to be seen. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t... I couldn’t sleep and your--”  
  
“It’s okay,” Dom said, his hand reaching out to touch Matthew’s shoulder again. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I wouldn’t recommend sleeping in a chair but...”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Matthew whispered, stepping away and letting Dominic’s hand fall back to his side. “I should go. I’m sorry.”  
  
He squeezed past Dom, rushing to the door and disappearing, leaving the glouglou to stare after him with the soft feel of his skin still stinging his fingertips. Unknown to him, Matthew was pressed up against the wall just outside his office, the electric shock that was Dominic’s touch still rattling through his veins. Something was about to snap.  
  
And it appeared that it was Agostino’s temper.  
  
“Matthew! What are you doing down here dressed like that?” he shouted, the younger man jumping in surprise.  
  
“I, um, woke up with a craving for orange juice,” Matthew replied uneasily, looking anywhere but his father’s eyes. “I was really thirsty so I didn’t bother getting dressed.”  
  
“There are glouglous about, Matthew. It’s not appropriate for you to look any less than your best.” Matthew winced as he thought about the one glouglou who’d already seen him like this, the one Agostino would  _least_  want Matthew to seem  _normal_  to.  
  
“I didn’t realise it was so important, father,” Matthew mumbled as he rubbed one of the corners of his eyes.  
  
“You don’t realise many things, do you?” Agostino’s accusatory tone made Matthew finally meet his eyes. “You don’t realise how important this audition is, how much you need to succeed to live the life you want. Do you think it’s all going to be served to you on a silver platter?” Matthew’s numb shaking of his head wasn’t acknowledged. “Get your act together, Matthew.”  
  
Agostino quickly turned on his heel and vanished down a corridor, his chastising of another glouglou echoing along the white walls. Matthew inhaled deeply, the backs of his eyes stinging, and he ran upstairs.

 

*

Dominic hadn’t gone into work early that morning to be greeted by Matthew’s sleeping figure, although he certainly hadn’t found it unpleasant. Once the Voix had hastily left the room, Dominic had quickly begun the process of ensuring that the song was perfect. The previous day, Matthew had mentioned something about Le Monde wanting to know what the song was called, even though it still lacked a title.

Every now and then, Dominic would look up through window to see the sun had jumped a great distance in the sky, he was that invested in his work. He ate his lunch at his desk as he continued to make everything just right.  
  
Laying his pen down and stroking his chin, Dominic glanced up at the wall, evening sunlight bathing the office. Le Monde would call in less than fifteen minutes for the title and Matthew was nowhere to be found. Dominic had named the song in his head long ago, but knowing Matthew’s temper and tendency to change his mind, he’d kept it all to himself.  
  
Sighing, Dominic heaved himself from his chair and towards the door of the office, to find the hallway empty. He pouted to himself just as a beautiful blonde woman rounded the corner.  
  
“Mrs Bellamy!” Dominic said, the woman in question turning her head with a curious smile on her face. “If I may, ma’am, could I possibly ask you where Master Bellamy is?”  
  
Calliope bit her bottom lip slightly, looking up towards the ceiling. “I haven’t seen him today, really...” she mumbled to herself, a quiet melody of words. “Oh, yes! I think I might’ve just passed him, because I heard a door slam upstairs and my husband is down here...” she finally met Dominic’s eyes again with warmth in her features. “He’s upstairs, should I get a maid to fetch him for you?”  
  
“If I may, ma’am, it’s very important because we’re titling the song and Le Monde--”  
  
“Oh, of course!” Calliope smiled. “I admit, it was a bit unfair for him to leave even someone like you hanging like that. You can go up,” she said sweetly, but her demeanour soon shifted. “But if I see you touch or even breathe near any of our possessions, you’ll be in front of Agostino quicker than anything. Understand?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am,” Dominic said, hurrying upstairs. Matthew had once mentioned how his bedroom overlooked the rest of the Voix suburb compared to the sea, so at the top of the stairs Dominic hooked a right and headed towards the only bedroom that was on that side of the mansion.  
  
He stood for what felt like hours outside the door, debating whether or not he was actually going to go inside. It had seemed like the only option when he was downstairs and desperate, but now, with the closed door staring him down, it seemed only daunting and a little impertinent.  
  
Sucking in a deep breath, he raised a hand to knock on the door, but he stopped short, rolling his eyes. How many times had Matthew barged into his office? More times than he could count. Ignoring the fact that he was barging into a Voix’s private rooms, he did just as he was not supposed to do and wrenched the door open. “Matthew, we need to talk about the--”  
  
He stopped dead, mouth hanging open as he took in the scene. Matthew was curled up on an unmade bed (slightly more clothed this time, albeit shabbily for a Voix), eyes rimmed with red and tears coursing down his pale cheeks. He jumped as Dominic barged into the room, sitting up sharply and angrily wiping away the tears with his sleeve. “What are you doing in here?” he shrieked.  
  
“I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t realise... I should go,” Dom said, shocked, turning to leave. He had his hand on the door handle when Matthew called out quietly, making him stop dead.  
  
“Stay,” the Voix said softly.


	14. bise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, how the mighty have fallen!"

Dominic wasn’t sure of what to do. Every single cell in his body was telling him to move, to get out and away from Matthew, but his feet stayed rooted in the plush carpet.  
  
The words came out of his mouth before he’d realised he’d said them. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Matthew stiffened up, his feet dropping down onto the floor. “You have the cheek to ask me that, _Dominic_?” The glouglou stepped backwards as Matthew began to advance, fearing one of his worst moods.  
  
Dominic swallowed, not knowing what to do. “I... it’s just that you... you told me to stay so I just thought...” he began to trail off a list of meaningless, unfinished sentences, hoping that at least one of them would keep Matthew from becoming too angry.  
  
“You  _just thought_ , did you?” Matthew snapped. “That’s all you ever do. You ‘just think’. That’s all anybody ever does. You think, but only because you have to, only because you feel like you must, because if it was up to you, you’d just  _do_  and you’d keep doing until you stopped being able to do anything!”  
  
Dominic blinked, completely nonplussed. He had no idea what Matthew was talking about, but he wasn’t about to start asking. The Voix spun on his heel, storming across the room and standing by the window with his back to the glouglou. “Are you okay?” Dominic asked timidly, when he felt that Matthew had calmed himself down enough.  
  
“Okay?” Matthew muttered. “I’m absolutely fine. I’m brilliant, in fact. Perfect. Wonderful. The best I’ve ever felt.” His voice had risen in pitch so that by the end of his hysterical little speech, he was practically shrieking. He punched his fist against the wall, Dominic wincing at the sound. “I - have - never - felt - so - _okay_  - in - my - life--” he grunted, punctuating each word with a punch, until he let out a violent sob and wrenched at the white curtains, tearing them down from the pole. Storming over to his bedside table, he tore the lamp from the socket and threw it across the room, the smash of glass against the wall causing them both to jump.  
  
Dominic watched the Voix tear the covers from his bed, smash priceless antiques on his shelves and thrust every single item of clothing in his wardrobe out onto the carpet, wincing at the bangs and crashes and hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t be blamed. Eventually, and to Dominic’s relief, the Voix threw himself onto the floor, curling into a ball and staring resolutely at the opposite wall with gritted teeth.  
  
Dominic hovered in the doorway, unsure of what to do. He had half-convinced himself to turn and leave when he saw Matthew’s shoulders begin to shake. Sucking in a deep breath, he edged over the mess on the floor and crouched down beside the Voix. “Matthew,” he whispered, a hand reaching out to touch the warm, pale skin of his arm. “Matthew, it’s okay. Whatever is the matter, it’ll be okay.”  
  
“Don’t you  _dare_  touch me,” Matthew snarled.  
  
Dominic quickly removed his hand, swallowing hard. “Why don’t you... tell me what’s wrong?” he suggested. “Maybe I can help.”  
  
Matthew gave a cold, emotionless laugh. “Go on, then, Dominic. Indulge me.” He sat up, wiping his red-rimmed eyes and pulling his knees to his chest. “Tell me why my father will never be happy until there’s no higher I can rise. Tell me how to make him realise that he can’t live his life through me. Tell me why my friends are only my friends because of my surname. Tell me why nobody actually likes me, or why they pretend that they do.” He paused for a moment, head tilted slightly to the side. “ _Tell me_!”  
  
“I... I don’t... I don’t know,” Dominic said truthfully. “Your father loves you--”  
  
“And how do you know that? Did he tell you? I wasn’t aware you and my father have that kind of relationship.”  
  
“Well, no. He didn’t tell me anything, but I know. He’s your father, Matthew, and no matter what it seems like, he does love you.”  
  
Matthew took in a deep breath, shaking his head with a laugh. “Don’t you dare talk to me about it like you know what I’m going through. You don’t even  _have_  a father any more.”  
  
Dominic’s teeth gritted. His hands curled into fists, his vision blurring as his fingernails cut deep welts in the palms of his hands. “Take that back, you bastard. Take it back now. I don’t care what you are, or what you’re going to be. You say something like that to me again and I swear to God I’ll...”  
  
“You’ll what, Dominic? Go on,  _please._ ”  
  
The glouglou reached out hastily and grabbed Matthew by his collar, the Voix yelping as he was hauled to his full height. No sooner had he gained balance before he was forced off his feet, suspended in the air as Dominic held him by his lapels, their faces inches apart. “You’re a spoiled brat, Matthew Bellamy,” he seethed. “You always get what you want and don’t give a  _shit_  if people around you get hurt.  _That’s_  why you don’t have any true friends.”  
  
“So why,  _Dominic_ ,” Matthew purred, “are you looking at me like you want to  _me baiser?”_  
  
It all happened so fast.  
  
Dominic growled, spinning around and pushing Matthew up against the nearest wall; he felt the breath leave Matthew’s lungs as it skittered across his neck. Grey eyes watched with desperation, fury and so many other feelings as a pink tongue wetted dry lips. Those same eyes finally met Matthew’s, unable to decipher any emotion in them. The Voix was higher than him, in this position.  
  
It all happened so fast, yet the seconds crawled and crashed by all at once.  
  
Before he could look Matthew in the eyes, he felt warm lips against his own. They were forceful, backed with rage only now unleashed. Dominic whined a half-hearted protest as he pulled his fists towards himself, Matthew’s long fingers finding purchase on the grey shirt Dominic wore. The Voix’s harsh movements against his motionless mouth seemed to contradict his lips’ soft, smooth texture, Dominic standing unresponsive for what felt like hours while Matthew worked against him.  
  
He may have looked calm, but there were so many thoughts racing through Dominic’s head that he couldn’t quite take a hold on the situation. All he could feel was Matthew’s hands on his chest and their lips touching and  _why wasn’t he kissing back_?  
  
Dominic’s lips parted, allowing Matthew’s tongue an entrance to his mouth. He felt arms slip around his shoulders, eyes fluttering closed and a warm, comfortable feeling spreading from his stomach to the rest of his body. A shiver ran down his spine as he touched perfect, soft skin and felt a tongue hesitantly touch his own, and he suddenly realised that he was kissing Matthew and Matthew was kissing him and--  
  
Matthew suddenly pulled back, hands again on his chest to push him away. He looked up at the Voix to see him panting, his cheeks rosy and lips slightly swollen. They simply stared at each other, grey and blue, glouglou and Voix. Dominic didn’t know how long they stood there before he eventually let Matthew down onto the ground. He sunk to the floor, dragging his back against the wall.  
  
Dominic bit his lip, exhaling a shaky breath before he said the first thing that was on his mind. “What.. what was that?” He didn’t like the way his voice wavered.  
  
Matthew’s shoulders shook, and if it wasn’t for the sob he heard Dominic wouldn’t have known he was crying. “I don’t know,” he whispered, as the tears began to course down his cheeks again. “I don’t know.”  
  
Dominic slowly lowered himself to the floor, sitting cross legged opposite Matthew, who was hugging his knees close to his chest. He decided there and then he wasn’t going to move until Matthew was okay, however long it would take.

*

As Dominic left the room, a sense of disbelief settled on his shoulders. He’d just watched Matthew Bellamy, the Unique to top all Uniques, cry himself to utter exhaustion, slowly slipping into unconsciousness until light snores had filled the room. Fully aware that Matthew hadn’t slept well the night before, Dominic had scooped the light body up into his arms and carried him through the broken glass and splinters to his bed, tucking him underneath his heavy duvet. His hands twitching at his sides when the job was done, Dominic had turned and left the room.  
  
And not a moment too soon.  
  
“ _Qu’est-ce que tu fous là?!_ ” a voice thundered, causing Dominic to jump violently.  
  
He looked up into the angered blue eyes of Agostino Bellamy and swallowed, his heart beating at an alarming rate as he realised just how close he had been to losing his job. If Agostino had seen him in the room, let alone actually  _touching_  his son, Dominic had no doubt that he’d have been out of that house faster than he could blink. Instead, he had been given a chance to explain himself.  
  
“I... I’m sorry?” he asked, fixing Agostino with a stare that he knew was probably too insolent for the Voix to take. “I don’t understand you,” he lied.  
  
“What,” Agostino yelled, “are you doing up here? You’re not allowed here!”  
  
Dominic chewed his bottom lip, shrugging slightly. “You might want to be a little quieter. Master Bellamy is asleep.”  
  
Agostino looked as if Dominic had just hit him. “And how, pray tell,” he breathed, “would you know that?”  
  
“We were discussing the title of his song,” Dominic replied easily, though his eyes had narrowed. “Do you have a problem with that, sir?”  
  
Agostino took several angry breaths through his nose, apparently trying to calm himself down. “Why did you have to be having this conversation in my son’s room?” he asked.  
  
“If I may, sir,” Dominic said with a nauseating smile, “he was nowhere to be found. I asked Mrs. Bellamy for permission to come up here, sir. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Bellamy, I must be on my way. I have work to do.”  
  
And he slipped past Agostino, heading downstairs without another word and leaving the Voix to glare after him.


	15. trouvaille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Final rehearsals create tension in our heroes..."

Matthew woke up with the taste of Dominic’s lips still on his.  
  
He sat up, dimly aware that he had been moved from sitting against the wall. He looked to the other side of the bed, half expecting Dominic to be lying beside him. It scared him, more than anything, that he felt his mood sour when he realised he was alone.  
  
And that it was mid-morning.  
  
And that it was audition day.  
  
“ _Putain_ ,” he muttered, clumsily rolling out of bed and dashing towards his wardrobe, avoiding all the broken glass and mess on his floor. He threw on the first shirt he found, along with matching trousers. Grabbing the accompanying jacket and a blue tie, he stumbled over himself trying to get dressed and almost fell head first down the stairs when he reached the landing. Panting, he arrived in the kitchen where he found Calliope and Adora.  
  
Looking up from a scrapbook, Calliope raised one eyebrow. “It’s only Thursday, love.”  
  
Matthew nodded tightly, but his eyes were focused on Adora, who was avoiding his gaze.  
  
“I’ll give you two a few moments, then,” Calliope said softly, leaving the room without a sound.  
  
A pregnant pause filled the air. “I like that tie,” Adora muttered eventually, keeping her eyes on her fingers nimbly sticking something down to the blank page before her. Matthew noted that they shook slightly. “It matches your eyes,” she continued with a flickering smile that disappeared as soon as it had touched her lips.  
  
“Aleksandr picked it out for me for my birthday,” Matthew replied numbly. He watched her for a moment, before sliding into the seat beside her, close enough to be engulfed by the scent of perfume that surrounded her. Glancing over at the page she had just finished in the scrapbook, his stomach dropped unpleasantly. On it were several pictures of he and Adora, smiling and laughing and holding hands. He turned away, the memory of Dominic’s kiss burning his lips.  
“Are you... are you looking forward to tomorrow?” Adora asked quietly, beginning to cut out another picture. “The audition, I mean.”  
  
“Yes,” Matthew said bluntly. “Of course I am.” He took a deep breath, looking back at the scrapbook. Forcing a smile, he shifted slightly closer to her. “When were these pictures taken?” he asked, breathing only through his mouth to avoid inhaling the scent of bittersweet memories. “I don’t remember them.”  
  
“A few weeks ago,” she replied, laying the final picture onto the page. The two were laying in a meadow, Adora grinning towards the sky as Matthew looked at her like she was the only person in the world. They hadn’t even noticed the camera, too caught up in each other.  
  
Had it really been such a short time ago, since the only thing in his life had been her? Since his life had been stress-free and planned out completely for the next thirty, forty years? Tears pricked the back of his eyes; he summed himself up, squeezing his eyelids together. “I’m yours,” he blurted out suddenly, as if it was a revelation, as if he was trying to tell himself that it was still true.  
  
It was, wasn’t it?  
  
Adora blinked once before turning to him with a genuine, relieved smile and pressing her lips to his. “I love you,” she breathed. “I always will.”  
  
The guilt rushed over him in a wave, sending a violent shudder through his body. What if she could taste Dominic on his mouth? He should tell her. He should tell her that he was angry, and he... he  _kissed_ Dominic. He should just tell her now, and she would forgive him, and they would live happily ever after, because that’s what they were supposed to do.  
  
But it wouldn’t work like that. Because when people are angry, when  _Voix_  are angry, they don’t  _kiss_ glouglous. They hit them, they kill them, they break them when they’re already broken. Because that’s what they were supposed to do.  
  
“Nervous?” Adora asked with a laugh, misinterpreting his shudder. “I am too. Paix and Joie may seem sweet, but they terrify me,” she said, as if it was a great and terrible confession, a smile twitching the corners of her mouth.  
  
“Me too,” Matthew replied with a smile, his shoulders sagging slightly as she moved ever closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder.  
  
“Don’t worry,” she sang quietly, picking up his limp hand and linking their fingers. “We’re going through this together, me and you.”  
  
 _And someone else_ , Matthew thought, numbly and robotically kissing the top of her head. He decided it was best for all if he kept that tiny, insignificant bit of information to himself.

*

Dominic woke up with the taste of Matthew’s lips still on his.  
  
He looked around the room, sunlight trying to peek through the gap in the curtains but only resulting in highlighting how dusty the place was. Nancy was nowhere to be seen, and somewhere in the back of his head Dom remembered that she’d spent the evening at Ben’s.  
  
Glancing at the clock, Dominic noted that he was late for work. He also noted that his mother would be at her own job already, and once again noted that he could taste Matthew on his lips.  
  
He allowed himself to imagine. Imagine if, when he rolled over to the other side of the bed that Matthew would be there, blond hair stuck down on one side but his bed hair still looking sexy. Imagine if Matthew grinned at him cheekily before diving under the covers, another’s touch on his eager body. Imagine how far Matthew would be able to take him into his mouth--  
  
Dominic’s eyes flew open as he gulped down a mouthful of air. His left hand quickly found its way to the waistband of his boxers, his cock stirring at the reel of images, memories and wishes playing in his mind. Matthew singing, Matthew smoking, Matthew arching under his touch...  
  
He gasped loudly as he began to stroke himself to full hardness, biting his lip as a particularly vivid fantasy came to mind.  
  
 _“You’ve been a naughty boy, Matthew.”_  
  
 _The black haired man turned around, his blue eyes sparkling. “What have I done this time, sir?” he asked coyly, voice dripping with want._  
  
 _“On your knees.”_  
  
Dominic hadn’t indulged himself in too long; the sound of his own moans echoing in the empty room was foreign. He wondered what Matthew would sound like when he was having sex. He would  _sing_ , Dominic reckoned.  
  
 _“You know I love it on my knees, sir,”_   _Matthew said, lowering himself onto his knees and elbows and pointing his arse up towards Dominic. The master realised, absentmindedly, that his submissive was actually glowing._  
  
 _“You know what you’ve done,” Dominic growled, gripping Matthew’s hips and penetrating him roughly, thrusting until he was in to the hilt. “Now sing for me, my cassé.”_  
  
Dom came over his hand with a shout, panting as his orgasm crashed through his body, right down to his toes. Rolling onto his back, he ran his clean hand through his sweaty hair, eyes in the back of his head as he teased out every last drop of come.  
  
Lips pressed to a flat line, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, flashes of his fantasy running through his mind as he numbly shuffled into the bathroom, climbing into the shower. For what felt the first time in his life, he was thankful for the icy cold water that sprayed from the nozzle.

*

Dominic’s journey to work consisted mainly of an early morning sprint - he was almost fifteen minutes late by the time he skidded into his office, tired and panting. Clutching at a stitch in his chest, he flopped down into his seat, rubbing his hand over his damp forehead. He shrugged off his jacket, dragging a pile of papers towards him and reaching for a pen, continuing his list of possible titles for the song; Le Monde had fortunately cancelled their interview with Matthew the day before, as Dominic and Matthew had never really had time to sit down and discuss it, always being interrupted by something.  
  
 _Like the kiss._  
  
Sighing, he sat back in his chair and tried to push the tempting thoughts out of his mind. He may have been alone at the moment, but all it took was for someone to open the door and... He didn’t like to think about it. He scribbled down another possible title, shaking his head and crossing it out almost immediately.  
  
He followed this routine for almost an hour, barely aware of time crawling along until he glanced up at the clock to see that it was already quarter past ten. He yawned, uncomfortably hot and bored. What he needed, more than anything else right now, was a distraction.  
  
That distraction arrived in the form of Matthew, although Dom had to wait quite a while before he turned up. It was almost lunchtime when the Voix hesitantly opened the door, clearing his throat to make himself known. “Good morning,” he said stiffly, leaving the door slightly ajar.  
  
“Good morning,” Dominic replied with an equally formal tone. He raised one eyebrow at Matthew’s attire. “Going somewhere nice?”  
  
“I, er... I overslept and thought it was tomorrow, but it’s... today,” Matthew said oddly, scratching the back of his neck. He shrugged off the jacket and hung it next to Dominic’s coat on the back of the door. Dominic almost asked what was causing Matthew to act so oddly, but he held his tongue. “Plus, it’s the only thing that survived the apocalypse of my room.”  
  
Dominic laughed, watching as Matthew almost smiled. “Whatever will the maid say when she finds it?” he teased, watching Matthew roll up the sleeves of his shirt with hungry eyes.  
  
“She won’t say anything, it’s happened before,” the Voix said, a sense of mystery lurking in his words. Dominic shifted on the piano stool.  
  
“Do you want to run through the song?” Dominic said, lazily picking out the main melody with the middle finger of his left hand.  
  
“Well, yes, but I have a better idea,” Matthew grinned, and Dominic tried his best to deny the tiny somersault his stomach did at that expression.  
  
With a wave of his hand, Matthew had Dominic away from the piano and following him down lavish corridors he’d never seen in his life, all furnished in varying shades of white. At an unmarked door, no different from hundreds of others, Matthew stopped.  
  
“Here,” Matthew said, pushing the door open. The room was vast and expansive, a far cry from their normal practice room. In the middle of the room was the only darkly furnished piece of furniture in the house: a black grand piano.  
  
“I’ve never played a grand piano before,” Dominic said, walking towards it with slow, unsure steps. He cleared his throat when he stood still only a metre away from it. “Sir, if I may...”  
  
“Of course you can, Dominic. And please don’t call me sir,” Matthew said, watching Dominic’s confused expression before breaking the contact. It was beginning to worry him to feel just how far Dominic had crawled under his skin. “Actually...”  
  
Dominic held his breath, unable to guess what Matthew was thinking. They both looked out of the large bay windows, looking out over the waves crashing against the beach below them. Inside the practice room, however, it was silent.  
  
“If I may ask...” Matthew said, leaning against the side of the piano. Dominic’s eyebrows raised.  _That’s a first_. “Why are you Dominic? Not just plain old Dom, or, I don’t know, one of those other low-life glouglou names.”  
  
Dominic blinked. “Well, uh...” He paused, scratching at the back of his neck. “Ignoring the not-so-subtle insult there, I don’t actually know why. All I know is that my Dad chose my name, and Mum chose Nancy’s. So I can’t really find out, now,” he said, a sad tone in his voice.  
  
“Ah.” Matthew said, looking down at the floor and feeling uncomfortable for once. “I’m sorry, about that.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Dominic said. It wasn’t. “Can I have a go on the piano, if I may?”  
  
As Matthew nodded, Dominic sat down on the plush velvet seat that spanned the width of the piano, a grin breaking out on his face. The ebony was highly polished, and Matthew watched Dominic’s contorted and polished reflection as a quiet octave filled the room.  
  
“You’ve really never played a grand piano before?” Matthew asked, the scales becoming more complex but remaining low and undisturbed.  
  
Dominic shook his head, not once losing rhythm. “I never played for pleasure. I learned to play piano because I was taught, you know? I knew that one day it would be my job. I never was treated to such things like this,” he said with a sad smile on his face. His father wouldn’t believe him, now, if he saw his son playing a grand piano.  
  
“Consider this a gift, then,” Matthew said, moving to sit next to Dominic on the stool but leaving that vital gap between them. “For all the help you’ve given me over the last few weeks.”  
  
Dominic looked over towards Matthew, a dark and brooding depth to his eyes. He blinked and it was gone, and Matthew was left wondering if it had been there at all.  
  
“I guess,” Matthew said with a light cough, subtly changing the topic, “that that makes us quite alike, then. How we both are forced to do things we’re good at.”  
  
The look they exchanged this time was much more amiable and contemplative, Dominic peacefully smiling to himself as he began to play the chords for the song.  
  
“From the top,” Matthew said, breathing in deeply and sitting tall as Dominic began to play the song properly.  
  
As soon as Matthew’s mouth opened, Dominic knew he was nervous. He could hear it in the slightest waiver of Matthew’s otherwise perfect voice, he could see it in the way his hands fiddled in his lap or how he screwed his eyes shut to hit the higher notes.  
  
One round passed, then another and another until Matthew was pacing the room as he sang and they’d both missed lunch. Time stretched on until Dominic finally put an end to it when Matthew got the same lyric wrong three times in a row.  
  
“No, Matthew. You’re not doing it right.”  
  
Matthew screamed, banging one hand down onto the top of the table. “I  _am_!” he shouted, Dominic standing his ground. “Who the  _fuck_  do you think you are to tell me how to sing?”  
  
“I’m not  _telling_ , I was  _suggesting--_ ”  
  
“No, you were telling.  _Putain de merde_ ,” Matthew ground out, pacing the length of the room. Dominic had lost count of how many times they’d practiced the song long ago, and through the big glass windows he could see the sun starting to set over the ocean. In the back of his mind, he also registered the fact that Matthew had just used a glouglou swear.  
  
Dominic blinked, rubbing a hand over his face. “Please stop overreacting,” he said calmly. “I’m just trying to--”  
  
“Just shut up for one second. Is that so hard?” Matthew snapped by way of reply, hands fisted at his sides. “Try it again. From the top, please, and don’t interrupt.”  
  
Dominic had barely touched his fingers to the keys when Matthew had snarled at him again, yelling, “You’re playing it wrong!”  
  
“How can you possibly know that?” Dom shouted in reply. “You don’t even know how to play the piano! Singing is all you’re good for!”  
  
A sharp silence followed his words, leaving Dominic to regret them without Matthew hissing curses in his ear. Eventually, the Voix turned back to Dominic, eyes wide. “You don’t mean that,” he said quietly. “Do you?”  
  
“Let’s just try it again, okay?” Dom offered, ignoring the question. “And we can both attempt to calm down.” He played the opening chord once more, risking a glance in Matthew’s direction. He was standing with his head bent forward, hands still curled into fists and cheekbones shadowed heavily against the red light of the setting sun. Swallowing slightly, he continued playing through the chords slowly until Matthew decided to sing.  
  
Finally, and to Dominic’s relief, Matthew began to sing, but they could both tell that his heart wasn’t in it. “There’s something wrong,” Matthew said abruptly, turning to face Dominic again and scowling. “There’s something you’re doing, and it’s wrong.”  
  
Resisting the urge to shout at him again, Dom thought about it for a moment. “Maybe it’s because I’m playing on a different piano,” he suggested. “The acoustics in this room are different to my office.”  
  
“Blame it on the acoustics,” Matthew snapped. “You’ll do anything to avoid it, won’t you?”  
  
Dominic let out a long breath, standing up from the piano and striding towards the Voix. “What,” he seethed, “is wrong with you? All you seem to be doing is insulting me and blaming me for things I have no control over. You  _know_  it’s not my fault, so why are you trying to suggest that it is?”  
  
“I need somebody to blame, and you’ve been conveniently placed right in front of me,” Matthew said coolly. “It can’t be  _my_  fault.”  
  
“Oh, that’s right. Because you’re  _perfect_ , aren’t you? I can’t believe I actually  _wanted_ to kiss you.”  
  
Matthew sneered, lips curling upwards into a smirk. “Are you honestly saying that you don’t want to kiss me now?” he asked, a teasing tone to his words in a mood change quicker than a heartbeat. “Because that bulge in your trousers says otherwise, doesn’t it?” He was close now, too close, whispering softly in Dominic’s ear and letting his scent hang in the air between them. “I think,” he continued, his tongue clicking, “that you are doing all you possibly can not to kiss me again, right now.”  
  
“You’re vile,” Dominic spat, furious.  
  
“And you’re hard,” Matthew said, his hands out of Dominic’s sight below their waistlines. He awaited and feared the pressure he knew would follow. “At least one of us can change.”  
  
“What did you do this morning, Matthew?” Dominic asked suddenly. “Eat your breakfast? Talk to your _darling_? Wake up in my office again?”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Matthew snapped. “This hasn’t got anything to do with anything.”  
  
“Do you want to know what  _I_  did this morning?” Dominic breathed, so close to Matthew that their noses were almost touching. “I thought about you, and then I touched myself.”  
  
Matthew seemed to freeze, his pupils blown wide and his chest unmoving. “You’re a liar,” he whispered.  
  
“That’s not all,” Dominic continued, as if Matthew hadn’t spoken. “I didn’t just touch myself over the image of your body, naked and writhing beneath me...”  
  
“Stop it,” Matthew mumbled lowly, his voice thick and eyes dark.  
  
“I touched myself thinking of my favourite fantasy. Do you want to know what that is?” Dominic asked, giving Matthew no time to answer. The men were still standing so close that they should be touching, but they weren’t. They could feel each other’s breath on their skin and Dominic could feel something a little more than butterflies settling in his stomach.  
  
“I was dominating you. You were a Unique, and you moaning like a whore for me,” he drawled, Matthew tensing up. “The best thing? In effect, you were my  _cassé_.”  
  
The words had barely left his mouth when his back collided against the wall, Matthew’s hands on his chest. “How  _dare_  you disrespect me like that?!” Matthew yelled, hands grabbing fistfuls of Dominic’s shirt. “You are nothing but a filthy  _cassé_  and don’t you  _ever_  think differently.”  
  
“Mm, say that again,” Dom breathed, head falling back to rest against the wall and exposing his neck. “You have  _no_  idea what that does to me.”  
  
“ _Espèce de salaud_ ,” Matthew hissed, apparently overcome with such anger that he could not even bring himself to speak in English. “ _Ta gueule! Espèce d’imbécile!_ ”  
  
“All that’s doing is turning me on,  _Mathieu, et je veux te dépuceler, pétale à pétale._ ”  
  
There was a split second in which nobody spoke - nobody even breathed - and then they were kissing with such ferocity that it was hard to see where one ended and the other began. Neither knew who started it; all that they were sure of was that in this single moment, nothing else was important. Their lips broke contact as Dominic flipped them, pushing Matthew up against the wall and grazing his jawline with his teeth. The Voix let out a moan, bringing their lips together once more and feeling a tongue slide into his mouth. Neither of them wanted to stop, but both of them wished they could.  
  
Eventually, however, Matthew turned his head away, breaths falling from his open mouth. His hands had loosened their grip on the fabric of Dom’s shirt; the glouglou could have easily broken away and left the room, but he didn’t. He stood exactly where he was, his eyes fixed on the Voix in front of him.  
  
Matthew’s eyes suddenly flicked upwards to meet Dominic’s, the look that passed between them one that neither could understand. He dropped his hands to his sides, eyes snapping to the doorway before moving slowly back to Dominic again.  
  
“Someone saw us,” Matthew said, and Dominic’s stomach dropped.


	16. cauchemar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're aching, you're breaking and I can see the pain in your eyes..."

“See, you always look cute in this shirt. Choose this one.”  
  
Dominic grunted for the fifth time at the fifth shirt. Nancy huffed, letting it fall onto the bed and putting her hands on her hips. “Dom, come on. You need to choose a shirt. Tomorrow’s a big day.”  
  
Laying down on the bed, Dominic turned his head into Nancy’s pillow. “Don’ care,” he mumbled, words muffled by the fabric.  
  
“What?” Nancy asked, sitting down on the bed next to her brother.  
  
“I said,” he said, turning his head towards his twin, “that I could not give less of a shit.”  
  
“Nicky, what’s gotten into you? You’ve been moody all week. You were fucking hyper when you got in last night, I didn’t even  _see_  you downstairs this morning and then now, you’re looking over your shoulder constantly. What’s wrong?”  
  
“I don’t want to talk about it.”  
  
“Too bad, because it’s obviously important so now you have to tell me.” Nancy poked him in the side once, at which he whined. “Spill.”  
  
“Fine,” he said, a slow smile appearing on his lips. “There’s a certain someone...”  
  
Nancy clapped her hands together and squealed. “Nicky! If you’re getting laid, does this mean you’re not going to kick me out of the bedroom each morning for your alone time?”  
  
Dominic blushed right down to his toes. “It’s not  _alone time_ , it’s so that I can get dressed without you comparing my body to Ben’s.” This lie silenced his sister, so he continued. “I’m not getting laid. At least, not yet anyway,” he said, scratching the back of his neck nervously.  
  
“Fooling around, then? I know Rory was into that, she always used to tell me about it.”  
  
It was a few moments before Dominic picked his jaw up off the floor and managed to strangle out a sentence. “She... she told you, about everything we did?” Nancy nodded. “Oh, god.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Nicky,” she said, patting his head patronisingly. “I won’t ask for juicy details of your future encounters with her.”  
  
“She’s not the certain someone,” Dominic blurted, watching Nancy’s face fall. “You’re not gonna like who it is,” he whispered, sitting on his hands so he couldn’t hide behind them.  
  
“Please don’t tell me it’s Emma. She’s easier than confusing a Voix with our swears.” Dominic smiled weakly at this, knowing that Voix couldn’t comprehend their slang. Taking a deep breath, he tried to ignore the absolute need to tell her the name.  
  
“I haven’t been sleeping with that slag, God no,” he said, wincing slightly. “Me and... this person, we’ve kissed a couple of times.”  
  
“Why are you saying  _this person_ , Dom? Nancy asked, her fingers making quotation marks in the air. “Oh...” The penny dropped. “Dom,” she said lowly, voice barely a whisper, “is it a guy?”  
  
“Yes,” he said quietly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he pushed on. “His name is Matthew.”  
  
Nancy was absolutely still. She didn’t breathe, she didn’t even blink as she stared at the grimy wall before them. “No,” she whispered, repeating it louder and louder until she was shouting. “No, no, no!” She stood up and paced away from the bed, backing herself against a far wall and pointing at Dominic. “A Voix. A male Voix. Please, God, if you’re there, don’t tell me that my brother has fallen for...” she gulped. “Oh God, please, no.”  
  
“His name is Matthew Bellamy,” he whispered as Nancy began to sob loudly.  
  
“No, no,  _no_ ,” she repeated. “Why, Dominic? Why would you do this to our family? We did  _nothing_  wrong, we’ve done  _nothing_ wrong but now, you’ve brought this  _shame_ upon our family and...” Her left hand flew out towards the dresser, grabbing her hairbrush and throwing it at Dom. It hit him square on the nose. “You fucking idiot!” she screamed, picking up Dom’s can of deodorant and throwing it at him. “You’re lucky you didn’t get caught!”  
  
The look on Dominic’s face made her stop. “Oh, no. No, you’re just fucking with me now,” she said, shaking her head resolutely. “You’re just fucking with me.”  
  
“We think someone saw us,” he admitted, grabbing a pillow from behind him and pulling it in front of his torso as protection. A drop of blood fell from his nose onto the clean white fabric.  
  
“We?  _We_? It’s a nice  _fucking_  unit now, is it? You and your fucking diva of a slutbag who  _killed our father!”_  
  
Nancy only realised the next object she had thrown half a second before it crashed into the opposite wall. It was a tiny china figurine her father had bought her to commemorate her birth. As the painted angel shattered into a thousand pieces, she fell to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself, howling.  
  
Dominic had never felt more removed from his twin in his life. “Excuse me,” he muttered, before running to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet.

*

It was late evening when Matthew stumbled across his mother. She was sitting in her favourite dining room with her back to the door, hunched over the table. Concerned, he slipped into the room, closing the door behind him.  
  
Calliope looked up at the sound of the door closing, turning to give him a soft smile that didn’t settle right at her lips. She gestured to a chair silently, blue eyes following him across the room as he moved to sit beside her. “Mother, is there something wrong?” Matthew asked with a frown. He looked at the table, at what she had been looking at, and realised that she was not simply staring with empty eyes. One of her prized photo albums was open at a page of photographs. His stomach squirmed painfully as he recognised Adora’s beaming face in all of them.  
  
“She’s such a pretty girl,” Calliope said in a small voice, delicate fingers reaching out to trace over a picture of Matthew and Adora kissing by the beach. “I always knew you and her would find a way.”  
  
Forcing an extremely false smile to his face, Matthew said, “We always will, mother. No matter what.”  
  
“You know, Matthew,” Calliope said, and her voice had suddenly become stern and cold, “I always told you never to lie to me. I  _do_  hate it when you lie.”  
  
Matthew shifted uncomfortably in the seat, eyes looking hurriedly around the room - anywhere but at his mother. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
A tear fell from Calliope’s eye, splashing onto the page of the photo album. “Why isn’t this good enough for you?” Calliope snapped, gesturing towards the picture of Matthew and Adora. “Why isn’t  _she_  good enough for you? Why can’t you be happy as you are?”  
  
“Mother, I--”  
  
“Don’t you  _dare_  try to make excuses, Matthew James Bellamy,” Calliope thundered, Matthew blinking in shock. “You know  _exactly_  what I’m talking about. I saw you... I saw you  _kissing_  that wretched glouglou earlier.”  
  
An uncomfortable silence followed her words, Matthew’s cheeks heating as he realised the implications of what his mother had just said. “Please...” he whispered, unsure of what he was going to say next. “Please, mother, I didn’t--”  
  
“You didn’t mean to? Is that what you were going to say?” Calliope said. “You  _did_  mean to, and you know it, Matthew.” She paused, then turned fully towards Matthew and brushing impatient tears from her cheeks. “I would just like to know what on earth possessed you to... to  _do_ that. Please, Matthew, spare me the lies and tell me the truth, no matter how much you don’t want to.”  
  
Matthew swallowed down the urge to turn tail and run, facing his mother with a flickering gaze. “I was angry,” he said honestly. “I was stressed and confused and tired, and he was making me so angry.” A sudden thought struck him, settling low in his stomach and leaving him feeling as though he was being torn apart from the inside out. “Please don’t tell father,” he whispered. “Please, mother, please, I’m begging you. I’ll do  _anything_.”  
  
Calliope’s eyes closed for a moment, before she nodded. “I will not tell your father,” she said, “on the one condition that, after tomorrow’s audition, you do not even  _look_  at that glouglou again.”  
  
“But mother--”  
  
“You shouldn’t be  _protesting_  this Matthew, I’m saving your life!” She choked out a sob and snapped the book shut, standing up from her chair and cradling the memories to her chest. “Get a good night’s sleep. I’m not allowed to see you tomorrow morning, so good luck,  _mon petit._ ”  
  
The sentiment felt empty, and his mother’s love wasn’t there when she kissed his cheek delicately. Reluctantly, Matthew dragged himself upstairs where he could hide from the world for a good few hours, with only his thoughts to mock him.

*

Matthew knew, instantly, that he wasn’t awake.  
  
He walked out of his bedroom door, the sounds of piano and arguing beckoning him downstairs. He passed a mirror and his hair was jet black. Frowning, he followed the sound of the noise.  
  
“Matthew! Get here,  _now_!” his father screamed, the younger Voix running faster than he ever had to reach him. When he got there, Agostino was casually sipping a glass of red wine. “I know what happened.”  
  
“But we planned it,” he found himself saying. “Adora and I knew what would happen, what would come of it--”  
  
“I’m not talking about her,” he said, gesturing with one hand to a previously unnoticed Adora, with black hair and blue eyes and a floaty dress. “I’m talking about him.”  
  
Suddenly, the piano music started up again, louder than ever. Matthew clapped his hands to his ears as he followed his father’s outstretched arm to a Voix figure in the corner. Matthew could only see the back of him, with his bright blond hair and broad shoulders, sitting at the piano. Matthew frowned.  
  
The other man slowly turned around. He was pale, like Matthew. He had blue eyes, like Matthew. But he had full lips, large ears, an awkward nose and a beautiful smile. He was unlike any other Voix he’d seen.  
  
Because he was a glouglou.  
  
“Hello, darling,” he sang, with a wicked smirk upon his face. “Sorry about fucking everything up, but you know me. Dominic the  _cassé._ ”  
  
Agostino hadn’t even flinched at the glouglou swear word, or the use of the full name the faux-Voix wasn’t entitled to. Matthew was so confused.  
  
“Adora,” he said, turning to his silent girlfriend. “What’s going on?”  
  
“You need to work out where your heart lies, Matthew. Is it with me? Is it with Dominic? Or, perhaps, is it with--”  
  
And Matthew woke up.


	17. vœu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big day finally arrives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyircs here are from the song Somewhere Only We Know by Keane. We claim no ownership to the song or the band.

For some reason, Dominic was nervous.  
  
No, it was more than that. He was  _afraid_. He woke up to see that Nancy’s side of the bed had already been vacated or, worse still, that she had not slept in it at all. Swinging his legs over his side of the bed and standing up, he bent down to pick up her hairbrush from where it had been left the day before.  
  
 _The day before_. Dominic closed his eyes as the memory of his twin’s anguish washed over him again. He gritted his teeth, placing the hairbrush back on her table and heading downstairs. To his relief, he saw his mother, who was sitting at the kitchen table and picking at a bowl of cereal. He sat down beside her, wondering if Nancy had told her anything and hoping that she hadn’t.  
  
Annie looked up as she saw him arrive, smiling genuinely. “Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “Looking forward to today?”  
  
His stomach jolted suddenly. The audition. He’d forgotten all about it. Shaking his head, he shrugged. “Not particularly,” he said. “But then again, I don’t know any situation where I  _would_  be looking forward to it. He’s an insufferable idiot, mum, I swear.”  
  
Annie chuckled, reaching out to slap her son’s arm lightly. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that,” she said sternly, though she was smiling. “Where’s your sister?”  
  
The smile fell from Dominic’s face. “I don’t know. I didn’t see her this morning. We... we argued yesterday. I think she’s mad at me.”  
  
“Mad enough to storm out last night and not come back?” Annie asked. “She was kicking up a fuss about every little thing when I saw her last, and then she declared she was going to Ben’s and slammed the door in my face before I could ask what was wrong. What on  _earth_  were you two arguing about?”  
  
Dominic shrugged. “I don’t know. She wanted to help me pick an outfit for today. I said I didn’t like it and she overreacted. Nothing, really.” He looked over at her with a sad smile. “It’s my fault,” he admitted. “I know she was only trying to help. Will you tell her I’m sorry if she comes back? I need to get ready.”  
  
Annie nodded, returning to her cereal with a smile. “Good luck today, sweetheart.”  
  
“I’m not the one who needs it,” Dominic lied, heading back upstairs to shower.

*

Matthew stepped out of the shower, ruffling his hair in a white towel before wrapping it around his waist. Curiously, he padded out of his bedroom and downstairs. He was far too warm, for once, to want to put his suit on yet, and he was confused as to why the house was so quiet. He couldn’t hear his father shouting.  
  
“Good morning, Master Bellamy,” a glouglou called Luke chirped, as he walked upstairs with a pile of towels in his arms. After Dominic and his personal accompanist, Luke was one of the only other glouglous Matthew could tolerate.  
  
“Luke,” he said calmly, as a form of greeting. “You haven’t by any chance seen my parents today, have you?”  
  
The glouglou nodded his head, eyes to the floor. He would be punished if he looked at a Voix in any state of undress. “Yes sir, I have. They left early, and with strict instructions to-- oh. To not tell you they left early. I’m sorry sir.”  
  
Matthew let out a small chuckle, Luke bristling for he had never heard the sound. “That’s okay, I’ve got bigger things on my mind than punishment,” he paused, waving Luke away when he began to apologise. Dragging his feet, he began to walk back upstairs to get dressed. The sooner he stopped procrastinating, the better.

*

“Master Bellamy, you and your accompanist have five minutes to prepare for your audition. The Vieillesse will not be judging this part of the--”  
  
Dominic came bursting through the doors at the end of the chateau’s longest corridor, his Converse squeaking against the mosaic tile as he jogged towards the Unique-to-be and the member of the Vieillesse. When he reached them, he braced his hands on his thighs and bent over panting.  
  
Matthew remained silent, but he stopped fiddling with the button on the cuff of his jacket.  
  
“815231184, I see you’ve finally arrived,” the older man said curtly.  
  
“Sir, if I may,” Dominic panted, but he was cut off.  
  
“No, you may not. Get into the audition room and start warming up.” He turned on his heel and walked down the corridor, expensive shoes clicking on the floor. Matthew glanced at Dominic and strolled into the grand audition room, Dominic hot on his heels and closing the door behind them.  
  
“What on  _earth_  are you playing at, you fool! This is the most important day of my life!”  
  
“I know, sir, I know. I’m so sorry,” Dominic gushed, breathing back to normal finally. “I was just putting the final touches to the song.”  
  
“ _What_  final touches?! We have five minutes, I can’t relearn anything!” Matthew seethed, fists clenched at his sides. Dominic dumped his messenger bag onto the floor and quickly settled himself onto the piano stool, practicing scales.  
  
“Well, it needed a title. Every time we’d tried to title it, we got... distracted,” the glouglou said, without meeting Matthew’s eyes. The Voix made a small hum of approval, however his mouth was still set in a frown.  
  
“And what, pray tell, did you call it?”  
  
Dominic looked up as his fingers lightly pressed on all the right keys to play the melody. “Why don’t we go,” he said lowly, “ _somewhere only we know_.”  
  
Matthew’s stomach churned, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of all the butterflies there, or the dark look Dominic was giving him. “I like it,” he said bluntly, tapping his fingers against the top of the piano once and turning away from the glouglou. “Scales, please. Start with C major.”  
  
By the time they had practiced the fifth scale, Dominic’s fingers had began to shake. He knew exactly how much this audition meant to Matthew, and he knew exactly what level of punishment he would receive if he ruined it. As if on instinct, Matthew turned around and regarded Dominic’s hands with curiosity.  
  
“You’re nervous, too?”  
  
“I don’t want to fuck it up for you,” Dominic said honestly, biting his lip when he realised he had used a glouglou curse in the highest of Voix chateaux.  
  
Luckily, Matthew smiled. “You won’t. We’ll be alright, you and me,” he said, echoing Adora’s words from only that morning just as the heavy wooden doors opened.

*

Matthew felt his hands curl into fists, fingernails biting into his palms as he watched the Vieillesse walk into the room. Dominic was a standing quite a way behind him, but every time he breathed in, he inhaled Dominic’s familiar, warm scent as if they were only centimeters away from one another. Matthew could see the faces of his mother and father as they took their places in the seats around the room. Trying not to look at his father, he turned his gaze back upon the doors, where Paix and Joie were standing, both with serene smiles, as if they were perfectly satisfied with life.  
  
Matthew caught a movement from the corner of his eye and turned slightly to see Dominic give a slight bow. A warm, comfortable feeling settled in his stomach at the sight, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the Anciens, though he could hear Dominic’s footsteps across the stage as he took his place at the piano.  
  
“Matthew,” Joie laughed as she took her seat. He swore the majority of the Vieillesse surrounding her smiled at the sound. “Don’t be nervous,” she said, deep blue eyes falling to his fists shaking at his sides, “allez, mon Unique.”  
  
With a deep breath and a small smile to himself, he nodded to Dominic. He watched as the glouglou’s shaking fingers set down onto the keys, the first chord resonating throughout the room as the melody morphed and developed, flowing in the air between them. Matthew sucked in a deep breath and Dominic gave him a grin, unseen by their audience and their own private moment.  
  
Something only they’ll know.  
  
 _“I walked across an empty land,_  
 _I knew the pathway like the back of my hand,_  
 _I felt the earth beneath my feet,_  
 _sat by the river and it made me complete.”_  
  
Slowly, Matthew opened his eyes fully after having them trained on a painting of an angel just above the main door. Each verse had a personal meaning to him, something he’d never truly told Dominic because he was still doubtful of just how well the glouglou knew him. Did he know how it felt to have everything in your life planned to perfection? Did he know how simple and  _empty_  it felt, how safe it was?  
  
 _“Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_  
 _I’m getting old and I need something to rely on.”_  
  
Dominic grinned as Matthew hit the high note, and he could feel himself grinning in response at his own achievement. His eyes roved around the room, taking in the calm faces of his spectators. They all had one thing in common: their eyes were closed.  
  
It occurred to Matthew that, of course, the Voix were only interested in the voice. Dominic could’ve been blindfolded and played the song with his arms crossed, Matthew guessed, but instead those grey eyes were trained on him and him alone.  
  
And no one else in the room could see them.  
  
 _“So tell me when, you’re gonna let me in,_  
 _I’m getting tired and I need somewhere to begin.”_  
  
Matthew thought of the warm fluttery feeling that possessed him when the  _wretched cassé_  was in the same room as him. It brought a sour taste to his tongue to think of him as that, now. Dominic was helping him begin his new life, and in this moment and with this song, Matthew was sure that he wanted him to become some sort of a permanent fixture.  
  
 _“I came across a fallen tree,_  
 _I felt the branches of it looking at me.”_  
  
It suddenly hit Matthew. One hand flew to his chest and clutched his shirt as he sang the lines, the imagery so painfully clear and tailored that it honestly hurt his heart. Dominic was the fallen tree. Dominic was the thing stopping him in his tracks, making him doubt the perfect path and perfect life and perfect girlfriend he had. A fallen, broken, dead tree, looking up to him as if he was a God.  
  
 _“Is this the place we used to love?_  
 _Is this the place that I’ve been dreaming of?”_  
  
Dominic looked up from the keys, then, and that alone was enough to send Matthew spiralling into the second bridge.  
  
 _“Oh simple thing, where have you gone...?”_  
  
Matthew’s voice was higher, stronger, more powerful than at any time during rehearsals. His heart was pounding, threatening to break out of his chest as the emotions running through his veins made him shake.  
  
 _“And if you have a minute, why don’t we go_  
 _talk about it somewhere only we know,”_  
  
Dominic was beaming, feet stomping happily on the pedals as Matthew sang the song to him. In that moment, he felt like he could easily grow wings and fly, he was so complete.  
  
 _“This could be the end of everything,_  
 _so why don’t we go, somewhere only we know,”_  
  
The lyrics were soaked in sadness, Matthew’s voice on the very edge of breaking, so raw and vulnerable. As he repeated the final bridge and chorus, Dominic watched as the man before him became undone, singing the best that he ever had in his life. Briefly, Dominic wondered if he was the catalyst for all this change.  
  
Secretly, he hoped he was.  
  
“ _Somewhere only we know,”_  Matthew finally sang, no more than a whisper and a sad smile. Their reverie was broken by the sound of a single, choked sob. Matthew looked up, blinking, to see that his mother had stood up, her hand over her mouth while tears rolled down her pale cheeks. He swallowed, holding back the urge to run to her and settling for just standing firmly where he was. He gave her a smile, dropping his head slightly and whispering, “Thank you,” so that only Dominic could hear.  
  
The glouglou stood up, eyes locked on Matthew as he let a smile slide onto his lips. He gave a tiny shrug, as if the whole thing had meant absolutely nothing, and stepped away from the piano, bowing to the Anciens before leaving the room. Matthew stood, rooted to the spot, equal parts relieved, happy and angry - relieved that nothing had gone wrong, happy that the Vieillesse had burst into a round of applause that almost drowned out his mother’s sobs of pride, but angry with Dominic, angry with his indifference, angry with the painful, lusting feeling in his stomach, angry with the need he suddenly had to run after the glouglou and kiss him until they had no breath in their lungs.  
  
But he was mostly relieved and happy. Or so he told himself.  
  
He stepped down from the stage, meeting Paix and Joie as they walked towards him. Both were smiling - beaming, even - and as the applause died down and his mother’s sobs subsided to sniffles and finally silence, Paix held out a slim hand. Matthew, taken aback, shook it firmly and let out a laugh which seemed to encapsulate every feeling that was bounding about in his brain. “Thank you for the opportunity,” he said sincerely, looking from Paix to Joie and hardly able to believe that this was happening to him. “Thank you so much.”  
  
Joie gave another tinkling laugh. “The pleasure, Matthew, was all ours.”

*

As soon as Matthew set foot through the front door of the mansion, he sank to his knees. “I did it,” he whispered. “I nailed it.”  
  
His mother squeezed his shoulder and smiled as she waltzed off into the kitchen, her maids following the happiest woman in St Pierre. His father mumbled a gruff congratulations, slapping him on the back and walking in the other direction, his own butler following him.  
  
And suddenly, Matthew was alone.  
  
“So much for appreciation,” he mumbled to the empty foyer, twisting his hips so he sat cross-legged on the floor. “Not like I just did anything major or anything.”  
  
“I thought it was pretty major,” a familiar voice said, and Matthew jumped, looking up. Dominic was standing at the foot of the stairs, casually leaning against the banister as if he owned the place.  
  
“You want to watch yourself,  _Dominic_ , otherwise you’re going to be caught out one of these days,” Matthew said teasingly, a contradictory smile on his lips.  
  
“I’ve got nothing to worry about, I know a few people in high up places,” he smirked, pushing away from the polished wood and towards Matthew. “We’re going to have to find other ways to spend our time now that that’s all over,” he said, offering a hand to the slightly stunned Voix.  
  
Matthew took it quickly, using Dominic as leverage to haul himself to his feet and trying to ignore how warm his hand was. “I’m sure we can, um, think of something,” he mumbled, Dominic’s proximity dizzying and Calliope’s warning ringing in his ears.  
  
Just as Dominic opened his mouth to reply, the doorbell rang three times in succession, and then the door was flung open. Dominic, wisely, launched himself across the room and once again stood casually at the bottom of the stairs, pretending to read a piece of paper he’d just unearthed from his back pocket.  
  
“Paix?” Matthew said, blinking a few times at the ever-so-slightly out of breath Ancien before him.  
  
“Matthew, is Adora here?” he asked, eyes flashing to Dominic and back to Matthew.  
  
“She’s at home, I believe,” he answered, his mind mentally attaching a ‘sir’ to the end of his sentence. He decided that was a product of spending far too much time with his subordinate.  
  
“Come then, quickly. Joie has received news and we must convene to discuss this. Come,” he repeated, ushering Matthew out of the house without so much as a glance at Dominic.


	18. malencontreux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations and pushy parents make Matthew feel like a teenager again...

Joie smiled to herself as she finished stirring the sugar into her tea, the maid removing the tray from the table and promptly leaving the room. Matthew had never been to this particular Constantine parlour before, and Adora had whispered to him that it was their best.

“There’s a reason to all this...” the matriarch waved her spoon in the air as she thought of the right word, “rushed kerfuffle, if you must,” she said with a laugh. “We have just received some very precious yet mildly irritating news. Paix.”

Paix leaned forward slightly, looking between Matthew and Adora with a smile, as if he knew something incredibly important and was at a loss as to whether he should tell them or gloat about it. “Let me start at the beginning,” he said finally, leaning back again and settling himself comfortably. “You both know, I hope, that there are other colonies of Voix across the globe?”

Both Matthew and Adora nodded silently. Matthew glanced sidelong at Adora, who was staring fixedly at Paix. “The second largest to St. Pierre is in Dover in England,” she said quickly, as if determined to prove that she was worthy.

Paix continued with a somewhat relieved chuckle, “Correct. And you are both aware of Dover’s current Anciens and Uniques?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Matthew felt as if he was being tutored again, as if he should have revised a brief history of Voixlore before even entering the room. “Hope and Glory are their Anciens,” he said slowly, “and the current Uniques are...” Frowning, he shook his head imperceptibly before saying, “Beatrice and Bartholomew, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You are not,” Joie said with a nod and a smile in his direction. Adora bristled beside Matthew, apparently upset that she hadn’t been able to answer first. “Well, we have just been contacted by Hope and Glory, who have divulged to us that they wish to visit St. Pierre, with their Uniques. Goodness only knows why,” she said, a little bitterly, in Matthew’s opinion. It seemed to him that Joie valued Hope and Glory as little more than usurpers of St. Pierre, attempting to join in the culture of the Voix, “but we, as the Voix of St. Pierre, cannot be seen without our own Uniques. Paix.”

Paix nodded graciously, and continued where his sister had left off. “Usually, to become a Unique, we would give you both a little more time to adjust and...” he paused, his gaze flickering to Joie for a second; they both smiled as if they were sharing a secret, “get things done, so to speak. Joie.”

“There really is no delicate way to say this,” Joie said, still wearing a smile that suggested otherwise. “To become Uniques, you must both be in love. Not so much with each other, but... each of you must be in love with another Voix. Conveniently, you are a couple, so no panic there!” she laughed, Adora looking at Matthew with a smile.

Matthew fidgeted slightly in his seat, looking at his hands. All of this smoke and mirrors was beginning to infuriate him to no end. He wished they would just tell him what was happening.

“And to be in love, you must... consummate your relationship,” Paix said. “And you must do this before you begin Cachant. Joie?”

“Because Hope and Glory will be arriving in six week’s time,” Joie said, looking between Adora and Matthew, “we cannot give you the usual preparation before Cachant. You have this weekend, and this weekend alone.”

“To do what, exactly?” Matthew asked, disbelieving.

Paix and Joie looked at each other, sharing a smile. “Make love,” they said simultaneously.

Matthew paled, holding a hand to his white forehead. Adora blushed, holding a hand to one of her rosy cheeks. Joie sipped her tea whilst Paix continued to look between the couple.

“We’re sure,” he began, “that everything will go according to plan,” he said, Matthew sure that, through his spinning vision, he could see a smirk on Paix’s lips. “Sunday eve, we will begin the final process, although this deadline may move if... things go to plan sooner than expected.”

Wordlessly, Joie stood up from the table, waving coyly at the Uniques to be before exiting the room. Matthew, paranoid as he felt in that moment, was sure Paix winked at them before he followed his twin.

Silence overcame the room, the vast vaulted ceiling not doing much as to comfort the pair. Adora silently slipped her hand into Matthew’s, rouge still painting her cheeks.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat lightly. “That was certainly interesting.”

Matthew nodded, swallowing dryly. As soon as he opened his mouth to reply, a telephone sounded somewhere in an adjoining room. He heard it fall silent, murmurs passing through the walls before a glouglou knocked on the door and opened it a crack. “Sir, if I may,” he began, “but there is a telephone call for you, Master Bellamy.”

Numbly, Matthew pushed away from the table and let Adora’s fingers slide through his as he walked towards the door. He was handed a white antique handset. “Hello?” he asked carefully.

“Matthew.” It took him a few moments to realise that it was his father, for the tone was so happy. “We’ve heard the news. Come home at once, and bring Adora with you.”

“Yes father,” he replied, before handing the phone back to the glouglou and slipping into the parlour once more. “We’re wanted at home,” Matthew said plainly. Adora stood from the table and joined Matthew in the doorway, leading him through the maze of the Constantine mansion before they reached the main door.

The sunlight was bright when the couple stepped out into it, Matthew’s eyes squinting down the street towards his home. He wanted to remove his blazer, but Adora’s hand persistently in his made it impossible. In that single moment, he resented how clingy she was.

Blissfully ignorant, Adora swiftly bent over to the side of the pavement and plucked a flower from the well manicured gardens of her house. It was bright blue, and she commented that it matched Matthew’s eyes. He gave a small, empty smile as they walked to the Bellamy mansion, feet in step.

The house was abnormally quiet when Adora and Matthew entered. Agostino’s butler ushered them to one of the sitting rooms at the back of the house, a personal favourite of Matthew’s because it overlooked the pool and then the bay beyond. When they were presented with the room, they found Calliope and Agostino sitting primly at the edge of one of the sofas. Matthew wanted to raise his eyebrows at how they were holding hands, wearing grins like Cheshire cats.

“Sit down, loves,” Calliope cooed, the couple automatically taking their places in the sofa opposite. Adora’s hand found Matthew’s once more and he suppressed a sigh.

“We’ve just heard news of your meeting with Paix and Joie,” Agostino grinned, and Matthew was still confused as to how they could’ve found out the information so quickly. “So myself and Calliope have decided to make things easier for you: we’re going away for a weekend.”

Matthew gasped quietly to himself; Agostino hadn’t left the house for more than one day for a good few years, not believing that Matthew could keep the house in good order alone. Agostino nodded at Matthew’s reaction, continuing regardless. “Yes, I know it’s been a while. Myself and your mother decided we needed a break away at the summer house and that... well...” Agostino fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, a mannerism Matthew hadn’t seen for many years, “we wanted to make things easier for you.”

“In addition,” Calliope said instantly, her smile still spread wide across her face, “the household staff have been relieved of their duties for the whole weekend. I’ve instructed them to leave simple meals in the fridge,” she said the word as if it had never crossed her tongue before, “so you two will be all alone, all weekend.”

Adora and Matthew exchanged a look, the girl squeezing Matthew’s hand tighter and giving a small giggle.

“What do you think, son?” Agostino asked, his expression unreadable. Matthew looked from his mother to his girlfriend and then to his father, and he licked his lips once.

“Er, thank you, I suppose,” Matthew said, trying to convince himself of his own words. “We’ll be fine,” he said simply.

“Excellent,” Agostino said, standing up and leaving the room. He patted Matthew’s shoulder as he left, just the once.

“Adora, dear,” Calliope said with a smile. “The gardeners have just planted some hyacinths. Would you like to come and see them?”

“I’d love to,” Adora said politely, leaning across to kiss Matthew’s cheek before she too stood up and left. He was quite sure that they wouldn’t spend the whole afternoon talking about flowers, not in the slightest.

Matthew looked over at his mother, wondering why she hadn’t followed Adora immediately. Calliope stood slowly, moving to stand in front of Matthew. She crouched until they were level, her eyes sparkling. “I’m so proud of you, my darling,” she whispered, and it settled uneasily with Matthew. “Your father may not say it, but he is too. You were so perfect today.”

And with that, she left Matthew on his own.

*

Dominic chewed on the end of his pen, thinking. He had been sitting in his office for just over an hour with nothing to do but stare at a blank piece of paper and will another song onto the page. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and scratching at his nose. Matthew had been veritably dragged away from him, but worse still, they had been about to kiss. What would have happened if Paix had seen them?

Shuddering, he looked back at the page and scribbled a word or two, before crossing them out almost immediately. Nothing seemed to work.

Bang. Dominic almost jumped out of his skin. Looking up at the door, he clutched at his chest, where he could feel his heart beating painfully fast. Matthew was standing in the doorway, having thrown the door open where it had crashed against the wall.

“I am going to murder my parents,” Matthew hissed violently, slamming the door closed and flopping onto the piano seat. “Help me bury their mutilated bodies in the rose garden.”

Dominic held back an amused smirk, looking down at the page and doodling a heart onto the paper. “Are you being serious?” he asked suddenly, looking up with a frown. “Because if you are, I’m in.”

“Just be quiet for a minute. Don’t say a word to me, I need to think.” Matthew snapped, holding up a hand. Dominic shrugged and resumed doodling. The heart was now wrapped with thorns and wielded a dagger.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed. The shadows in the room grew longer but Matthew remained deadly still, one hand at his lips whilst the other traced the pinstripe on his trousers. Finally, he spoke.

“We have to make love.”

Dominic smiled to himself, laughing quietly at Matthew’s joke. “Much as I’d like it bent over the piano stool, it’d be more comfortable on a bed.”

“Are you even listening?!” Matthew shouted, Dominic finally looking up from his doodles and turning around. “I wasn’t talking about us, you fool, I was talking about Adora and I.”

Dominic’s stomach dropped and the smile was instantly wiped from his face. “That’s more like it,” Matthew whispered, the glouglou unsure if he should’ve heard that or not.

“But why?” Dominic asked in a quiet voice, refusing to meet Matthew’s eyes.

“Apparently, it’s the last step to becoming a Unique. You have to be in love, or whatever,” Matthew said, dismissing it all with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, all the household staff are being sent home this weekend, so we have the house to ourselves.”

“Right,” Dominic said uneasily, a sick feeling seeping through his belly. “That’s good to know,” he said.

They sat in silence, Dominic absently adding shade to his doodle before screwing up the paper and throwing it across the room. Matthew blinked owlishly, looking over at the glouglou and whispering, “I’m scared.”

Dominic shrugged slightly, staring at his hands. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to make me not scared,” Matthew continued in the same mousy whisper, and before Dominic could blink, Matthew had appeared in front of him, easing himself into the glouglou’s lap and pressing their lips together. Dominic slipped his arms around the Voix’s small waist, a warm feeling spreading through his body which abruptly disappeared as he felt something wet brush against his skin. He pulled away from Matthew, startled, his stomach dropping unpleasantly as he watched tears course down the Voix’s pale cheeks.

“Hey,” Dom said, concerned. He reached up a hand, brushing away the tears with his thumb. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Except I’m not,” Matthew seethed. “I have to... with Adora... and I don’t... I don’t want to, Dominic, I don’t want to, because I don’t love her anymore and I’m so afraid because my mother knows, she saw us, and my father... if my father ever finds out about this...” he shook his head, a tear dripping from the end of his nose and splashing onto Dominic’s shirt, bleeding into the fabric. “It’s bad enough that you’re... that you’re a man, never mind a glouglou.”

Dominic knew that Matthew’s words should have hurt him, but they didn’t, because he knew that what the Voix was saying was right. This was wrong. He was going to get in trouble. He had heard about their kind of relationship before, about how the Voix had been outcast and the glouglou had been executed. He knew that they would never be right.

But most importantly, he knew that he wasn’t supposed to care. He was supposed to corrupt Matthew and be happy about it, because that was his plan, to make Matthew so hated by his own father that they could not even look at each other. He wanted Agostino to lose his son, like he, Dominic, had lost his father. He didn’t want Matthew.

He was going to push Matthew away. That’s what he was going to do. He was going to stand up and leave Matthew alone and upset, because he wanted nothing more to do with him.

But then Matthew began to kiss him again, and he stopped caring.


	19. doublette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acts that make a man can also break him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations are at the end of the chapter

“What do I even do with this?” Matthew muttered frustratedly to himself, squinting to read the small handwriting left on a counter in the lone kitchen above stairs. He held a foil wrapped package of some meat or the other in his hand, the other clutching a large floret of broccoli.

“I think, love, you just put it in the oven?” Adora suggested from her perch atop one of the stools and the breakfast bar. Her legs were crossed at the ankle, and Matthew felt guilty and torn that he let his eyes linger on them for one second too long.

“That... that might be what I have to do,” he said, discarding the vegetable. Giving the alien package one last glare, he put it into the oven, turning it to the number detailed and moving to sit down next to Adora. “Five minutes, just to reheat them, apparently.” The ‘them’ he was referring to, as he had just found on the instructions, was a package of two small, garlic butter coated chickens.

Adora clucked her tongue. “You’re really not destined to be a chef, are you?” she laughed, her fingertips absentmindedly drifting up and down Matthew’s arm.

“I’m going to be an Unique, there’s absolutely no calling for me in a kitchen,” he smiled in reply.

Matthew had left Dominic’s office a few hours earlier, when a call had echoed around the house that all the staff were to finish their work early. His mood had been improved but he still felt hollow and sick to his stomach. He knew he wouldn’t be able to eat dinner.

Adora had returned from a talk with Calliope shortly after, the two women laughing about something Matthew could only presume held some relevance to the night’s activities. Another lurch of his stomach reminded him that, truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing.

Agostino hadn’t even had the guts to at least give him some kind of guidance.

Adora, who had been absently looking between him and her recently manicured nails, suddenly piped up. “Have you ever met any of the Voix from Dover?” she asked quietly, as Matthew shifted in his seat.

“Can’t say I have,” Matthew admitted with a shrug. “Although my father has. Then again, he’s met everyone who’s ever lived, ever, so it’s not really that much of a surprise.”

“Has he ever told you anything about them? Are they... different to us?”

Matthew shrugged again. “I suppose they can’t be, really, can they? It’s only across the Channel. And they have Uniques and Anciens, like we do.”

Adora nodded in understanding. “Is it wrong of me to imagine them all to be different? I’ve only ever grown up around St. Pierre. It’s strange, isn’t it, thinking that there’s... other places.”

Matthew held back a scathing comment about superficiality and simply shrugged for a third time. “Maybe,” he said noncommittally, glancing back at the oven. “I guess the only difference is that they speak less French, but better English than us,” he quietly remarked. The sudden, lurching fear had crept back at him again, and he didn’t want to look at Adora unless he could help it.

He walked across the kitchen, wrenching open the fridge door with such violence that the entire thing shook slightly. Purely for the waft of cool air that stole over him, and an excuse to avert his eyes from Adora, he rifled through the fridge until he found a jug of cold water.

“Do you want a drink?” he called, not looking over his shoulder.

“Yes please,” Adora replied. “A glass of champagne.”

Sucking in a breath, Matthew dared a glance back at her. She smiled and wiggled her fingers in a semi wave. “Champagne?” he breathed. It wasn’t for the price, of course not, it was more for the occasion and for the alcohol.

“Surely, the success of our auditions is something to celebrate?” she almost sang, running a hand through her hair, still swept back in a sleek up-do from the audition. “Also, it’ll relax us a bit, ready for--”

“Okay, okay,” Matthew rushed to interrupt her with, “but just one glass. I’ve heard...” he chose his words carefully, “things about it being difficult with... alcohol.” He pulled the bottle out of the fridge, only agreeing to please her; the sound of her happy laughter was not the pleasure to his ears it used to be.

He tried to ignore the shake in his hands as he pulled a flute from the cupboard, listening to the glug of the bottle. He tried to ignore how the glugging noise sounded like a gurgle, because he knew where that path of thinking would take him. He tried to ignore her squeal of delight when he pulled the chicken out of the oven and it was, indeed, perfect. He tried to ignore that by tomorrow, he wouldn’t be a virgin anymore.

He tried to ignore all of these things, and he failed miserably.

Sighing, he dished up the meal before carrying Adora’s plate and glass of fizzing champagne over to her. She smiled her thanks as he took a seat opposite her, eyes scanning her body. She was still wearing her dress from the audition, the ice blue fabric swept to one side of the stool she sat on. Her blonde hair remained intricately pinned back and the simple silver necklace she wore was a very distracting pointer to another part of her anatomy.

Matthew was frightened, but he still couldn’t resist the calls of his needs and the curves of a woman.

“The chicken is good,” Adora said politely after she had taken a small bite. Waving her fork in the air, she continued. “I guess you could boast that this is your own meal, after all.”

Matthew laughed, looking down at his plate to eat but feeling Adora’s eyes on the top of his head. He’d taken his grey suit jacket off in the warm kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt in the process but now he could swear the muscles in his forearms were being watched.

A strange and unfamiliar tension settled on the couple, the air around them unbalanced and thick simultaneously. They ate slowly but all too soon they were finished, pushing their empty plates into the centre of the table to be picked up by the house staff at the end of the weekend.

Matthew felt himself suddenly caught by Adora’s unblinking, icy blue eyes. Swallowing, he stared at his hands for a moment, before taking a deep breath. “Shall we--”

Adora stood up, moving around to entwine her fingers with Matthew’s and pulling him to his feet. Their lips touched awkwardly, Matthew thought, but then Adora was leading him away from the kitchen and towards the grand staircase, Adora’s eyes level with Matt’s as her high heels clicked against the marble. Her back hit one of the large banisters softly, the breath leaving her lungs and skittering down Matthew’s now open shirt as she smiled at him as sweetly as ever.

His hands were in her hair as their lips met again, this time much more surely as Matthew’s tongue ran across her full bottom lip. All thoughts of wrongness and Dominic and eternal glory slowly dissipated from his mind as Adora finished unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his slim shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

With a swift movement, he gently pulled one large pin from her hair, watching the blonde curls tumble down around her shoulders. She took his wrist again, beginning to pull him up the stairs once more as they kissed again and again.

Adora kicked off her high heels at the top of the stairs, Matthew’s shoes following soon after. He cupped her face and kissed her slowly as they entered his bedroom, the sunset casting everything into shadow and painting the near wall a deep auburn.

Matthew stepped back for a second, Adora standing simply against the wall. Her blonde hair was a fiery red in the light, her pale skin almost glowing. She looked ethereal and for that moment, Matthew scoffed at the idea of desiring anything else than her and her body.

Coyly, she smiled up at Matthew, reaching behind her neck to unclasp her necklace. He realised, suddenly, that he’d bought it for her eighteenth birthday a few years previously, and it brought a smile to his lips.

Adora huffed as her fingers kept trying to reach the clasp, Matthew’s hand brushing her forearm. “Don’t,” he whispered, yet even this was too loud. “I like it.”

His hand touched her waist and her shaky exhale did not go unnoticed. He turned her around, keeping her bathed in the light as he reached for the zip travelling the length of her spine. As another inch of skin was exposed, he felt an overwhelming desire to grant each patch with a fleeting kiss.

Smiling, he likened it to unwrapping a present, to the petals of a flower opening--

_“I will deflower you, petal by petal”_

\--as he carefully pushed the silk from her slender shoulders, immediately stepping back as her body was revealed at last.

Matthew’s eyes roved over the skin he had never been allowed to see before, from her shoulder blades down each vertebrae down to the curve of her hips, expensive lace covering her behind. She turned her head, hair bouncing as she smiled over her shoulder at Matthew. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said simply, turning around fully as Matthew spluttered to think of something intelligent to say.

“I like your knickers,” he said as Adora’s hands rested on his hips, pushing him towards the bed. He blushed instantly as he tried desperately to keep his eyes on her beautiful, pretty, round face as opposed to her beautiful, pretty, round--

“Sorry?” she giggled, reaching up to stroke his face once. “Relax, Matthew. It’s okay,” she soothed, singing quietly to him as her lips brushed his.

“How are you so good at all... this?” he mumbled more to himself than Adora, forgetting her proximity for a second.

“I’m not, I only know what I’ve been told,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. Ah. I knew that’s what her and my mother were discussing earlier. “I know nothing more than you do. I think the champagne’s helping a bit,” she giggled.

Adora kissed him once more, effectively silencing his worries as her fingers drifted towards his belt.

*

Dominic chewed idly on his hunk of bread, dipping it into his soup and glancing across the table at Nancy, who was determinedly avoiding his eye. When he had arrived home that day, announcing just how well Matthew’s audition had gone, he had received shining admiration from his mother and a staunch, stony glare from his twin.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected it. After he’d confessed to Nancy what was happening between him and Matthew, every word she’d spoken to him had been a command or a blunt answer to a question. No matter how much he tried to tell her that nothing was going to go wrong, that everything was going to be fine, she still remained angry. He’d had experiences of Nancy’s grudges before, and for the pettiest, most impertinent things. This was something solid, something even Dominic reasoned was wrong, and he could quite easily justify her anger towards him.

He still resented it, though.

He couldn’t deny, however much his pride got in the way, that Nancy was right to think the way she did. He missed his sister, more than anything in the world. He missed having her on his side, and if it was the last thing he did, he was going to make things right between them again.

“It’s all very quiet,” Annie said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Are you two still upset with each other?”

Dominic dropped his eyes back to his soup, nodding in reply to his mother’s question. “It’s no big deal,” he said easily, shrugging. “To be honest, mum, it’s a lot better without her buzzing in my ear every five minutes.”

“But still,” Annie said, failing to catch his sarcasm. “You two have never been like this before. Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

Nancy flashed Dominic a glare, daring him to explain why they weren’t talking. He began to pick at his bread, forming irregular lumps which he threw carelessly into his soup. Stirring them around with his spoon, he shrugged again. “Nothing,” he said. “Just... lots of little things. It’s nothing.”

Annie sighed resignedly, shaking her head. “Well, you two can sort it out when you do the dishes, because I’m going to have a well-earned relax as soon as I’m done.”

Dominic couldn’t argue with her logic. All she seemed to be doing nowadays was working, whether it be menial household tasks or otherwise. He had a great deal of respect for his mother, and it was because of this that, when he had scooped the dregs of vegetable soup from the bottom of his bowl, he began to clear the table and headed over to the sink. Nancy reluctantly followed, carrying her own bowl and spoon.

Dom began to fill the sink, glancing periodically over at Nancy, who had completely cleared the table and was hovering by his side with a tea towel in hand. Annie finally pulled away from the table and headed over to the threadbare sofa, sitting down and reaching for the newspaper on the coffee table, leaving Nancy and Dominic to hiss angrily between each other.

“So did you and Bellamy get it off when you got back from the audition?” Nancy whispered, scowling.

“Fuck off,” Dom whispered in return, dunking a bowl into the water and scrubbing it carefully. “Nancy, stop being a brat. It’s not like that between me and him.”

“But the fact still remains that there actually is a ‘you and him’,” Nancy replied petulantly. “You’re the one being a brat, Dom. You just can’t keep your filthy hands to yourself.”

“You’re a melodramatic little girl, Nancy, and you need to just grow up.” Dom snapped, before realising that he was supposed to be attempting to patch things up with his sister. Unsure of what to say, he handed her the bowl and reached for another one. “I...”

“You what?”

“I’m sorry,” Dom said, though his voice rose at the end until his statement sounded more like a question than anything else. Clearing his throat, he nudged Nancy in the side and tried a grin. “I’m sorry.”

She stared at him, blinking slowly as she methodically dried the bowl in her hands. “You know what?” she said loudly. “I’ll do the dishes on my own, thanks, Dom. You go... somewhere else.” Pushing him away from the sink, she added in a low whisper, “Anywhere else. Also, apology not accepted. Piss off, Dom.”

And no matter how much he didn’t want to, no matter how much he wanted to stay and make her understand that it was all going to be okay, he obediently turned and walked away.

*

Dom had been lying, motionless, on his bed for almost an hour when he heard his name being called. Scrambling up and wrenching open the door of his room, he came face to face with his mother, who was dressed smartly in the same dress she had worn for Matthew’s birthday party. The same dress she had worn the night her husband was killed.

“Your sister and I are going out,” she said with a small smile as she reached to pat a stray hair flat on his head. “There’s an instrumental band playing and Ben and his parents invited us to come with them.” She paused, looking down at her dress with a small sigh. “How do I look?” she asked, doing a small turn and letting out a rather embarrassed laugh. “It’s a nice dress, after all. I thought I should use it again,” she said, as if she was attempting to justify something that didn’t need justifying.

“You look beautiful,” Dom said honestly, a smile touching his lips. He wanted to say something about his father, about how he would have loved to see her wear it again, but somehow the words wouldn’t come out. He stood awkwardly for a moment before reaching forward to pull her into a hug. He closed his eyes, inhaling her scent until it was the only thing he could smell. “Have fun tonight,” he whispered.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Annie said, hugging him the way only a mother could. “We’ll be back at about eleven, okay? Don’t do anything daft.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and for the first time in what could possibly have been his entire life, he didn’t make any attempt to pull away. She stared at him for a moment longer, before nodding to herself and walking downstairs to meet Nancy.

Absently rubbing his cheek where she’d kissed him, he blinked a few times, closing the door behind him as he returned to the bedroom he couldn’t quite call his own.

He sat down on the bed that he couldn’t quite call his own either, unsure of what to do now that he had the house to himself. Dom’s mind quickly emptied itself of all worries about Nancy, but within seconds it had occupied that space with thoughts of someone else.

Matthew.

Where they really a thing, now? Dominic bit his lip. He couldn’t deny the fact that when Nancy had referred to them as one unit, his heart had clenched and he’d wanted to hum contentedly. It felt right, an island of correctness in a sea of wrong.

Even as he laid down on the bed, Dom thought about how wrong everything was, all in varying scales. Firstly, he and Matthew were separate, which in his mind was quite the sin. He felt almost empty after the amount of time he’d spent with the Voix, to now have days upon days of fuck all to do without that annoyingly charming company.

Secondly, and also linked in with his first reason, he now had no reason to constantly seek out Matthew’s company. No questions to ask, no lyrics to write, nothing. Matthew was free to do whatever he wanted. As Dom fiddled with a piece of fluff on his t-shirt, he wondered what Matthew was doing in that exact moment.

And he sat bolt upright in bed.

Dominic knew exactly what Matthew was doing, in that moment in time. He could feel it at the back of his mind, a humming noise that just wouldn’t be quietened. The humming grew, louder and louder until it was vibrating in his bones and his brain and it was suddenly far too hot in the bedroom.

_“Adora, je te veux.”_

Dominic’s t-shirt was off and onto the floor in record time, lying back down on the bed as his favourite fantasy came dancing before his eyes once more. Matthew’s skin was shining with a thin layer of sweat, his eyes were sparkling and his hair was jet black. Dominic’s hand drifted down towards his stiffening cock.

_It was all so foreign to Matthew, but he and Adora had silently agreed on one thing: it took far too much concentration to converse in English, truthfully the second language of their species. As Adora’s nimble fingers had brought down Matthew’s boxers and laid him bare before her eyes, their praises had been sung in French._

Shifting his weight on the bed slightly, Dominic closed his eyes and let his fingers brush against the growing bulge in his jeans. His pleasured sigh was broken and chapped as he pressed the heel of his hand downwards, a groan filling the empty room. Without wasting any more time, he quickly tugged down the fly of his jeans and, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, wrapped his hand around his cock.

_“Matthew, embrasse-moi.”_

_Matthew did as he was told, reaching up to kiss Adora as she sat astride his hips, more than fully aware of how much he wanted her. He deftly undid the clasp of her bra, pulling it off and rolling her onto her back in one swift movement._

Dominic’s eyelids flickered slightly, a soft moan followed by a slight creak as he moved on the bed. The Matthew in his head was sitting beside him, smirking playfully and touching himself with long, languid strokes. He was whispering the filthiest things in Dominic’s ear, shivers running down the glouglou’s spine as he felt Matthew’s cold fingers touch his bare skin.

_“Tu es si belle, ma petite.”_

_Adora giggled, pulling Matthew’s mouth down to hers with newfound strength, her breathy moans sending shocks throughout Matthew’s body as his fingers traced the curves of her breasts, barely brushing her sides to rest on her hips._

“I’m going to dominate you,” Matthew muttered, tongue passing over his lips as Dominic shifted once more, eyes squeezed shut. His hand tightened considerably, his head rolling back to hit the wall behind him with force. “Does this feel good, mon cassé?”

_“Et, finalement...”_

_Adora remained silent, their panting the only sound in the room as Matthew carefully pulled off the knickers he had commented on only moments before. He felt, in a rush, it was all too fast, and that he remembered once Dominic had said something about being slow and loving, but then Adora tapped his shoulder._

“Fuck,” Dominic breathed, his short exclamation followed by a groan. “Oh, fuck.”

_“Mathieu.”_

_He moved back up her body, his arms shaking from holding up his own weight but also from the dizzying aphrodisiac which was Adora, stroking his arms and his torso and so many parts of his body at once. She hooked her right leg around his waist and blue met blue as they stared into each other’s eyes._

“I want,” Matthew whispered, as Dominic’s hand tightened around the base of his cock, “to be inside you. Let me be inside you, mon cassé.”

_“Je t’aime, Mathieu.”_

_Kissing Adora’s lips sweetly, he slowly pushed into her warm, wet heat. He watched her eyes flutter shut at the intrusion as he eased himself deeper, watching her every movement._

Dominic corkscrewed his cock at the thought of Matthew all around him, on top of him, inside him. He spread a bead of precome across his fingers, the sticky substance proving useful as he slowly began to fuck his tight fist. He squirmed on the sheets, not caring that his sister would sleep in them tonight because suddenly, he could smell lavender and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

_“Je sais,” he replied tentatively. “Je te fais mal?” he asked quietly, watching a teardrop form at the corner of her eye._

Without quite knowing what he was doing, his fingers were in his mouth, tongue tracing over every inch until they were lathered entirely. He gave another moan at the thought of something else in his mouth, at the thought of Matthew writhing above him and tugging at his hair as he threw his head back and groaned.

_“Non, c’est parfait,” she smiled as she opened her eyes, a shuddering breath escaping her lungs as she saw her soulmate, her best friend, her boyfriend, her Unique above her. “Parfait,” she said with the slightest shift of her hips._

Turning onto his side, he tugged roughly at his cock, moans escaping his lips as he slowly, tentatively inched his index finger between his arse cheeks. A shudder ripped through his body at the alien feeling, gasps of pain mixing with sighs of pleasure as he attempted to make himself more comfortable.

_Matthew’s mouth opened slightly at the sensation, beginning to shallowly thrust and watching Adora unravel beneath his gaze. She threw her head back gracefully, hair splayed over the pillows as he hands found their way to Matthew’s shoulders, gripping him for support._

“Can you feel me there, mon cassé?” Matthew’s breath was across Dom’s ear and he swallowed dryly. “Feel my fingers there, now. Do you want more?”

_“Plus vite, Mathieu.”_

_Matthew complied once again as he always had done to a request of hers, it was a song he was unable to resist the call of. He gripped her hips, shifting his weight onto his knees as to fulfil her request completely. Moans and instructions spilled from her lips, greedily kissed away by a hungry mouth._

“Yes, sir,” Dominic breathed, adding another finger automatically in an attempt to feel fuller. He knew he wanted more, more than he ever thought he would’ve wanted.

_“Chouette alors!”_

“You’re so much better than ma Voix, mon cassé. You are mine to break, you are mine to control...”

_Adora arched up into Matthew, their chests touching as his hips continued to snap in a frantic rhythm. She called out his name over and over, the sound of her singing sending Matthew spiralling towards his release._

Dominic gasped as his left hand resumed stroking his cock, shifting around on the bed until he was kneeling, thrusting between the slick of his palm and the brushing of his prostate.

_“Je viens!”_

“Come for me, mon cassé. Come for me and show me how broken you are.”

_Matthew grunted as he spilled into his partner, Adora’s heels digging into the small of his back as she gripped him harder. The feeling was so much stronger than the sensations of losing himself at the touch of his own hand, and he found himself continuing to thrust into her pliant body long after they had both spent themselves. Adora ran a hand through the blond hair stuck to his forehead, a silent request for him to lay beside her, to embrace her. He did so, slowly pulling out and rolling over, allowing her fingers to languidly play with his._

Dom screamed out for Matthew, ramming his fingers into his arse as he came, two hot spurts landing right in the middle of Nancy’s side of the bed. He collapsed back onto his side, slowly removing his fingers and listening to Matthew’s final utterance of filthy as the lavender scent dissipated into the smell of sex, thick and heavy in the air.

_“I love you,” she said quietly after a while, her ability to speak a foreign language returning._

_Matthew bit his lip discreetly, staring up at the ceiling. The same ceiling at which he had stared, thinking of Dominic. As they remembered their tongues, he remembered his dirty little secret. “I do, too,” he replied, and upon hearing her contented sigh, he allowed the heavy pull of sleep to take him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “ _Adora, je te veux._ ” - "Adora, I want you."
> 
> “ _Matthew, embrasse-moi._ ” - "Matthew, kiss me."
> 
> “ _Tu es si belle, ma petite._ ” - "You are so beautiful, my little one/my girl."
> 
> “ _Et, finalement..._ ” - "And finally..."
> 
> “ _Mathieu._ ” - french spelling of Matthew
> 
> “ _Je t’aime, Mathieu._ ” - "I love you, Matthew."
> 
> “ _Je sais,” [...] “Je te fais mal?_ ” - "I know," [...] "Am I doing you harm? / Am I hurting you?"
> 
> “ _Non, c’est parfait,” [...] “Parfait._ ” - "No, it's perfect." [...] "Perfect."
> 
> “ _Plus vite, Mathieu._ ” - "Faster, Matthew."
> 
> “ _Chouette alors!_ ” - slang for "that's great!", you could put "oh, God!" or something else here and it's basically the same thing
> 
> “ _Je viens!_ ” - "I'm coming!"
> 
> and ' _mon cassé_ ' used throughout is Matthew calling Dominic 'his broken one' / 'my broken one', it's derogarory Voix slang for glouglous


	20. roseraie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regret takes on many forms...

Matthew breathed shallowly through his nose, fingers flexing slowly as he crawled from his dreamless sleep. Judging by the silvery light that spilled through a gap in the curtains, the moon had summoned itself to its full height in the sky. He ignored the sleeping figure of Adora beside him and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wrinkling his nose as he sat up and realised how  _unclean_ he felt. Glancing back at Adora, he snuck into his bathroom briefly for a quick shower.

He emerged minutes later, entirely naked except for the towel he held in his hands, roughing up his hair with it in an attempt to dry it somewhat. He discarded the towel as a cool breeze attacked his bare skin. He walked over to the balcony and leant against the cold stone wall, staring down at the cobbled streets below. In that moment, he didn’t care about who could see the most intimate parts of his body, as long as it wasn’t  _her_.

There was a rustling sound from behind and he turned sharply to see that Adora was shifting in bed, the sheets bundling awkwardly around her body. With a soft sigh, he turned back towards the bed and carefully pulled the sheets up to her shoulders, smoothing them out across her skin.  
  
“Matthew?” Adora asked sleepily, a smile staining her lips. “What are you doing? Come back to bed.”  
  
“I can’t sleep,” Matthew mumbled, moving away from her and walking across the room to find a clean pair of underwear in the drawer.  
  
“Why?” Adora was sitting up now, clutching the sheets to her chest as if afraid that he would see anything untoward. Matthew held in the bitter remark that he’d already  _seen_  everything of interest and simply shrugged, pulling on his underwear and turning back to her. She was frowning heavily, shaking her hair over her shoulders. “Is there something wrong? Tell me.”  
  
She stood up, wearing the sheets like a dress, and shuffled towards him, but he batted her consoling hand away irritably. “I just don’t want to go back to bed, okay?” he snapped.  
  
Adora’s face fell, her hand soon clutched to her chest as if Matthew’s words had been fire and she was now burned. “Why are you being like this? We just had the most fantast--”  
  
“Don’t finish that sentence,  _chiche_!” he growled, his eyes daring her darkly.  
  
“ _\--fantastic_  experience together and now you’re being a... a...  _connard_ ,” she whispered, a sob wrenching from her chest as she heavily fell down to sit on the floor, the sheets billowing around her. “Don’t tell me we’re burning out, fading out,” she whispered to herself more than to the stranger before her.  
  
Matthew remained silent, swallowing down the bile in the back of his throat as he pulled on his trousers from last night, wincing at the sight of her dress abandoned in the doorway.  
  
“Matthew, please, talk to me,” she whispered, reaching out for him. This time, he bat away her hand and even he could feel the forceful, stinging pain afterwards.  
  
“Please get out of my house,” he said quietly, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. If he was going to take her heart from his own chest, mangle it and break it before her eyes, he was going to do it like a gentleman. “Please.”  
  
“Matthew, no!” Adora shrieked, jumping to her feet. Matthew made to leave the room, Adora abandoning the sheets and quickly wrapping herself in Matthew’s robe as she went. “Matthew, you  _can’t_  do this! That’s it, now! After last night, we... we’re together, now, you can’t just end it.”  
  
Matthew turned around, his eyes cold and heartless. “I’m not ending it. We are still together,” he said robotically, watching Adora’s face flush with happiness. “We’re Uniques together, yes. But you’re not  _my_ Unique.”  
  
He swiftly stepped over Adora’s heels, kicked off earlier that evening on the landing, and went downstairs in desperate need of some fresh air. A fresh start, a fresh beginning.  
  
Someone to start it all again with.  
  
As he slipped out of one of the side entrances to the house, he could still hear Adora crying.

*

The trill of the telephone somehow made its way into Dominic’s confused dreams as the shriek of an undead Voix man, who was trailing after him and yelling obscenities in every direction. “Who the hell’s calling at this time in the morning?” it said furiously, in his mother’s voice. “Bloody ignorant bastard!”  
  
The shriek suddenly stopped, and the reality of the situation shook Dominic abruptly from his slumber. Or it may have been Nancy. “Wake  _up_ ,” she was saying, jabbing him angrily in the side. “Dom, get up.”  
  
He grunted, turning onto his side and scowling furiously at the wall. Despite the fact that he’d been dreaming about a horde of undead Voix, he’d rather have still been asleep.  
  
“Who was on the phone?” Nancy asked as the door swung open and their mother marched into the room, ripping the curtains apart.  
  
“Nobody,” Annie replied, stamping around and picking clothes up from the floor. “That’s who.  _Nobody_. It’s six in the morning and I just got woken up by  _nobody_. Bet this never happens to the Voix!”  
  
Dominic groaned loudly, mashing his face into the pillow and attempting to non-verbally explain that he had a few hours of sleep left in him and most certainly did not need to be wrenched from his bed. Apparently, his mother didn’t understand groaning, as she ripped the covers from him and practically dragged him into a standing position.  
  
“And what the bloody hell are you complaining about?” she snapped. “You might not have work today but that definitely does  _not_  mean you can just lie in bed until six o’clock at night! Get washed, get dressed and do something bloody constructive!”  
  
Before he knew what was happening, he was being steered into the bathroom by a bizarrely angry Annie, who disappeared downstairs, still muttering to herself. Entirely confused by what had just happened, Dom spent a moment or two simply leaning against the locked bathroom door and staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.  
  
With a scowl, he flattened his tousled hair with the palm of one hand, sighing bitterly as he silently cursed the idiot who had thought it a good idea to call their house in the early hours of the morning and not even have the decency to explain why.

*

It was almost midday when the telephone began to ring again. Dominic, who had been attempting to fix the plumbing under the sink at the time, sat up sharply and hit his head against the top of the unit. Massaging it angrily, he marched from the kitchen to pick up the phone, but saw with a sudden sense of trepidation that Nancy was already there.  
  
“Hello?” she said irritably, one hand on her hip as she completely mirrored her mother’s usual stance. Annie would have been proud to see it, had she not been busy running errands. Dom found himself suddenly interested in the person on the other end of the phone as he saw the look on Nancy’s face. “Who’s speaking?” she asked.  
  
The person on the other end replied, and whoever it was, it was obviously someone important, because Nancy’s eyes bugged dangerously as she turned to glare at Dominic.  
  
“What do you want?” Nancy asked, her voice strained and suddenly a little more polite. She listened for a while and then, with a final sigh, she thrust the telephone in Dom’s direction. “It’s for you,” she said, though the way she said it suggested that he had just called her several insulting names and she was threatening to go to their mother about it.  
  
Dominic took the phone, slightly alarmed. “Hello?” he said uncertainly.  
  
“Dom, I need your help,” said Matthew’s panicked voice.  
  
It took a few seconds for the situation to sink in, and Dominic simply stood in silence as he tried to comprehend the fact that Matthew was calling him. “What’s wrong?” he said eventually, blinking several times and attempting to avoid Nancy’s questioning gaze.  
  
“I have no kitchen staff this weekend and I haven’t eaten anything all day. I’m freezing cold, I can’t find any clean sheets, I have muddy feet and I regret everything, Dom, I just want to do it all again...” There was a noise not unlike a sniffle, as if Matthew had been crying. “I need someone I can rely on, Dom. Please. I need you.”  
  
“I’ll be right there,” Dominic said firmly, placing the phone back in the cradle and grabbing his jacket from the bottom of the stairs.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going?” Nancy snapped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the door. “Mum said--”  
  
“Mum said to do something constructive and that’s what I’m doing,” Dom said angrily, attempting to tug his arm out of her grip. “I have to go.”  
  
“Because your precious Matthew misses you?” Nancy said with a falsely simpering smile, eyes narrowed. “Who the hell does he think he is, calling me “ _ma’am_ ” like that?!”  
  
“Nancy, seriously, get off me,” Dom seethed. “What are you even talking about, anyway?”  
  
“Bellamy!” Nancy shrieked, actually stamping her foot in anger. “You should have  _heard_  him!  _Excuse me_ ,” she said, in a high pitched squeak which Dominic assumed was supposed to be Matthew’s voice, “ _I’m sorry to disturb you, but is Dominic there?_  And so  _I_  asked who was calling and he whipped out the ‘holier than thou’ card and said,  _Matthew Bellamy, ma’am_! Can you  _believe_  that?”  
  
“Not at all,” Dom said solemnly. “Simply horrendous of him to think that it was okay to actually use _manners_ , something you’re obviously not used to. Now I really have to go.”  
  
“I mean, you would  _think_  that he’d actually have a physical idea of what he was saying, wouldn’t you, but apparently he doesn’t work like that!” Nancy continued loudly, holding her hands in the air and finally, thankfully, letting go of Dom’s jacket. “ _Matthew Bellamy, ma’am_! Prim and proper, he was, I’m telling you, Nicky!”  
  
It was then that she realised that she was talking to thin air, the front door was wide open and Dominic was sprinting up the road as if his life depended on it.

*

Dom glanced around as his footsteps echoed in the giant hallway. It was the first time he had ever been allowed through the grand main doors of the mansion, at Matthew’s specific request over the security intercom.  
  
Now, he felt a little lost. He had no idea where to find Matthew, and calling out his name would be a fruitless exercise in a house of this size.  
  
That’s when he heard the piano.  
  
It wasn’t perfect, far from it. Dom winced at the sound of keys clashing, the pedals being stomped far too loud. He started walking briskly towards his beloved piano in his office, rounding the corner to find Matthew hunched over the instrument.  
  
Sobbing.  
  
 _“Oh simple thing, where have you gone_?” he half sang, half whispered, half cried, fingers and voice shaking as he tried to play the melody. Dominic’s eyes immediately went to his bare back, watching his shoulder blades move as he breathed choppily.  
  
“Matthew,” Dominic said quietly, a loud discord sounding as Matthew was startled out of his own thoughts. “Matthew, why aren’t you wearing any shoes?”  
  
Matthew turned around fully then, and Dominic had to refrain from stepping backwards. His face looked sullen, his eyes bloodshot and his cheeks, for once, stained a blotchy red. His bottom lip was chapped from where he had been biting it, and he looked so  _tired_. He blinked a few times, trying to think of a reason.  
  
“Went out into the rose garden at about three in the morning,” he said casually, rolling one shoulder in a half shrug. “I couldn’t find any shoes.”  
  
Dominic knew he had to ask the question burning the tip of his tongue. “Matthew,” he repeated once more, stepping into the room and sitting down in the worn chair at his desk, “why, exactly, were you in the rose garden at 3am?”  
  
The answer came in a rush.  
  
“Adora. She’s the reason. I woke up and her mere  _presence_  was just too much. I told her to go away and she did, but not without a fight,” he sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I told her we’re not together any more... her and I, I mean,” he clarified quickly, staring at his twitching fingers folded in his lap. “Whether she accepts that or not isn’t my problem.”  
  
Dominic blinked, torn. Part of him wanted to dance for joy, to play a happy little ditty on the piano whilst Matthew danced around him. The other part saw everything fall away before his eyes. What was Matthew without Adora?  
  
“But you’re here,” Matthew said, and when Dominic wrenched himself from his thoughts, Matthew was standing in front of him, a flickering smile at his lips. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”  
  
“‘Course I came,” Dom said, dismissing Matthew’s words with a wave of his hand. “You asked me to. D’you want to talk about it?”  
  
Despite the fact that he really had no idea what kind of advice he could give to Matthew, having never been in anything remotely like his situation before, he grinned as Matthew nodded, looking down just as Matthew’s fingers interlocked with his. He followed the Voix out of the room and upstairs, but they didn’t go into Matthew’s bedroom. Matthew led him further along the corridor into another bedroom that Dom had never been in before. It was larger than Matthew’s room, but decorated in much the same way.  
  
“Er...”  
  
“My parents’ room,” Matthew explained with a small smile, sitting nervously at the foot of the bed. The covers were thrown haphazardly across it, as if someone had slept in it recently. Confused, Dom sat himself down beside Matthew, a questioning gaze thrown in his direction. “I couldn’t sleep in my bed last night. Not after...” he took a deep breath, shaking his head and flopping back to lie flat on the bed.  
  
After a moment of deliberation, Dom mirrored him, turning to face him. He was staring at the ceiling with a frown creasing his forehead. “What’s up?” Dom asked quietly, nudging him lightly in the side.  
  
“I... I don’t know what to do,” Matthew whispered. “There’s nothing I  _can_  do. I ruined things with Adora and I don’t know why.” His eyes filled with opalescent tears once more, and the urge to kiss him overwhelmed Dominic suddenly and violently. He leaned closer, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek lightly.  
  
“Everything will be alright,” Dom said softly, pressing their lips together with the lightest of touches.  
  
Once again, that warm, comfortable feeling settled itself in his stomach as Matthew shifted closer to him, a cool hand pressing against his waist and sliding deftly under his shirt to touch his skin. A shiver ran through his body as he felt Matthew’s fingers roam around his back, playing against his spine as if they were the keys of a piano. They settled into a familiar rhythm, lips working in tandem to deliver shoots of warm pleasure across his body. Matthew’s tongue slid between his lips, gentle but with more confidence than the Voix had ever had before.  
  
They moved again, Matthew pulling away for a second to swing his legs over either side of Dom’s body, and then their lips were joined once more. Dom settled his hands on Matthew’s hips, thumbs brushing against his bare skin as Matthew began to nip at his bottom lip with sharp, playful movements.  
  
It could have been minutes or even hours before they finally pulled apart and simply looked at each other, blue eyes meeting grey. “I was thinking of you,” Matthew mumbled as his lips brushed against Dom’s jaw. “When I was with her. I wanted to be with you, Dominic. Every time I see you, I just want to... I want to kiss you. I want... I want to...” He trailed off, hands tugging at the hem of Dom’s shirt fretfully. “I want... I just... I just want  _you_.”  
  
At Matthew’s confession, Dom felt a sudden, darker pleasure twist into his stomach. He sat up, so that Matthew was sitting in his lap with his legs wrapped around his torso, and wound his arms tighter around that thin waist of his. “I want you too,” he breathed. “All the time. I was thinking about you last night.”  
  
“What were you thinking?” Matthew whispered tremulously, almost afraid to know.  
  
“You were a Unique,” Dominic muttered by Matthew’s ear, each slight movement of the Voix rushing straight to his half-hardness. “You were... you were so  _hot_. You were inside me and--”  
  
Matthew let out a catlike mewl, burying his blond head in the crook of Dom’s neck. “Please stop,” he said, his voice muffled. “I don’t want to hear this. Not now.”  
  
Dom quietened obediently, though his mind was still racing, the thoughts of his fantasy rolling through his mind in brief and glorious flashes. “I had a girlfriend a while ago,” he said quietly, as Matthew moved to lie beside him again. “Her name was Rory.”  
  
“Is this going somewhere?” Matthew asked with a teasing smile. “I don’t remember wanting to know about your past relationships.”  
  
“Shush,” Dom replied with a grin, marvelling at the way their relationship could move between intimacy and friendly banter in the blink of an eye. “Anyway, this was back when I was... seventeen, maybe eighteen. We were both at the age when we wanted to fool around a bit, but we never actually did anything...  _stronger_  than a blowjob.” He smiled wistfully as the memories of Rory washed over him. “She gave the best head I’ve ever had, I have to admit.”  
  
Matthew blinked, his face a mask of blank confusion. “She  _gave_  head? How could she have  _given_  head?”  
  
There was a beat of silence, Dom’s disbelief clear on his face. “Oh my God, you have no idea what a blowjob is,” he said, stunned. “Your life has been completely pointless up until this moment.”  
  
Matthew, apparently unwilling to be the punchline of a joke he didn’t understand, scowled furiously. “What’s a blowjob?” he demanded. “Tell me, I want to know!”  
  
“It’s a kind of foreplay,” Dom explained, hardly able to believe that he was actually having a conversation about this, “where one--”  
  
“What is foreplay?” Matthew asked angrily. At the look upon Dominic’s face, he hurried to continue, “I swear, you’re just making these words up, aren’t you?”  
  
“I’m not!” Dom said, though the smile still lingered on his face. “Listen, are you actually being serious? You have absolutely  _no idea_  what foreplay is at all?” A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Of course you don’t. It’s a decidedly glouglou thing, if anything.”  
  
“Oh, fine, then,” Matthew said bitterly, turning on his side to face away from Dominic. “Keep your glouglou secrets! Don’t tell me  _anything_! Tease me with your mysterious words, it’s  _fine_ , I don’t care!”  
  
Dom laughed, shaking his head in awe. “A blowjob,” he said slowly, as Matthew reluctantly turned back to face him again, “is where one person goes down on the other person--”  
  
“If I don’t know what a blowjob is then how am I supposed to know what ‘going down’ is?” Matthew said flatly, eyes narrowed. “This is so  _funny_  for you, isn’t it? You just  _love_  knowing something I don’t, and quite frankly--”  
  
“I don’t know how to explain it, alright?” Dom said loudly, over Matthew’s petty complaints. “Okay, say, if I was going to give  _you_  a blowjob, I would... kind of do this...” he moved so that he was lying between Matthew’s splayed legs. “And then I would... take off your... your trousers...” He swallowed, suddenly realising what he was doing and where, exactly, he was. He glanced up at Matthew, who was blushing a violent shade of red.  
  
“And then?” the Voix croaked, clearing his throat quietly.  
  
“And then I would put your cock in my mouth.”  
  
He didn’t look up to see Matthew’s reaction; he simply began to undo the button of Matthew’s expensive trousers, pulling down the zip and tugging at them until they pooled around his ankles. He felt the bed moving as Matthew kicked them across the room, lifting himself up on his elbows to look down at Dominic. “Do it,” the Voix said in a hushed voice. “ _Faites-le_.”  
  
Dominic licked his lips, tilting his head to the side as he studied the prominent bulge in Matthew’s white boxer shorts. “If you’re sure,” he said with teasing doubtfulness, nevertheless pressing a soft kiss to Matthew’s inner thigh.  
  
“I’m sure.” Matthew said firmly, though his voice shook slightly as he spoke again. “I want...”  
  
“What do you want, Matthew?”  
  
Dom had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but whatever it was, it seemed to be working. The Voix above him was mumbling incoherent words, moaning with pleasure as Dom continued to deliver kisses and licks to his soft, heated skin. He felt those now-familiar cords tightening in the pit of his stomach, sending waves of bliss directly south, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave Matthew for even a moment to pleasure himself.  
  
“I want...  _je_  want you to...  _toi_... to put... my...  _mon_...”  
  
With deliberate slowness, Dom began to tug Matthew’s boxers down his legs, dropping them on the floor carelessly. A wide grin settled at his lips as Matthew stuttered through his words, finally subsiding into silence and simply moaning in anticipation.  
  
“Your  _what_ , Matthew?”  
  
“ _Mon_... my c-cock...”  
  
“This? This one here?”  
  
Dom thought about it for only a second. He must have been the only glouglou in the world to have had this kind of power over a Voix, to be able to leave them shaking and begging for more. He had stripped Matthew bare, and was about to deliver to him something most definitely glouglou. It was more than he could comprehend.  
  
Then he took Matthew into his mouth, and completely forgot what it was that he was thinking about.  
  
The delirious moan of sheer pleasure that left Matthew’s lips was the most sinful thing Dom had ever heard. He stopped for a moment where he was, his head reeling as he attempted to replay the sound and store it in his memory forever. It was the first time he had ever heard such a noise, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.  
  
He lathered the head of Matthew’s cock with his tongue, making mental notes of the shudders and groans that perforated the silence of the room. After a minute or so of simple, almost nervous movements, he hollowed his cheeks, moving to take the Voix to the hilt. The sensation was choking and unpleasant, but as Matthew threw his head back and  _screamed_ , he knew that he would most definitely do it again. He released Matthew’s cock, shifting slightly to bury his head between pale, thin legs and kiss along his length. He spared a moment to look up, to see just how pleasure looked upon a Voix’s face, and the sight sent a spasming heat directly to his own stiffening cock.  
  
Matthew was coated with a thin sheen of sweat, his back arched and his hands fisting the already mangled sheets. His chest rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths, and even as Dom looked, one hand snatched out and began to tug and pull at his hair, forcing him to take him into his mouth again.  
  
His moans began to increase in pitch until they were simply short, sharp screams as Dom hollowed his cheeks once more, the head of Matthew’s cock hitting the back of his throat. He could feel the tiny body above him shuddering and knew that he was reaching his climax. It took only a gentle tease of his balls and another deep-throated suck, and come was spurting, hot and fast, into his mouth. It was salty and thick, and it sluiced down his throat in a strangely pleasant way.  
  
Dom let the softening length fall from between his lips, then he crawled up to face Matthew again. A dribble of white remained petulantly at the corner of his mouth, unnoticed, until the Voix looked up at him. A smirk tilted his lips at the corners as he reached out a long, thin finger and swiped it away. “Filthy,” he muttered, sliding the same finger between his own lips and releasing it with a quiet pop. “And in my parents’ bedroom, too.”


	21. sans-abri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Matthew nor Dominic will have a peaceful night...

 

Dominic scowled into his bowl of stew, turning the lumps of overcooked meat slowly with his spoon. His demeanour changed as soon as Annie sat down opposite him, pretending instead to happily chomp down his dinner.

It had been dark by the time he had left the Bellamy mansion, Dominic helping Matthew (‘ _helping_ ’ used in the loosest sense of the word) change the sheets on the two double beds he had slept in, plus preparing an evening snack that they ate in an awkward silence. The stew in the chipped bowl before him was a far cry from the food overflowing from the fridge in Matthew’s spotless kitchen, going unused because the Voix in question had absolutely no cooking skills.

“Dominic, stop scowling. If the wind changes direction, your face’ll be stuck like that and then I won’t be given any grandchildren,” Annie said with a tone only a mother’s love could supply. Nancy noisily dropped her spoon back into her bowl.

“I’m going to ignore the blatant neglect of considering me, here,” Nancy said with a pout in her most annoying tone of voice, “but Nicky here probably won’t be gifting you with grandchildren anyway.”

Dominic glared at his sister, concealing his worry about where the conversation was going with a creased brow and stormy eyes.

“Why?” Annie asked, looking between them both with a smirk on her lips. Dominic continued eating his stew reluctantly. “Due to infertility from you kicking him in the balls too much as a child?”

Neither sibling laughed, too concerned with staring each other out. Nancy could ruin everything with a few simple words.

“No, mum,” Nancy said carefully, watching Dominic’s reaction. “It’s because he plays for the other team.”

Dominic remained still, the only thing moving being his eyes to watch his mother’s expression morph. He sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that his mother didn’t read too deeply into Nancy’s flagrant truth.

“Dom,” she breathed, eyes finding a patch of damp on the opposite wall and staying glued to it. “But... Rory? What happened?”

Dominic breathed in deeply, the other two occupants of the table waiting for his answer; one determined to see him squirm and the other completely unreadable. He exhaled. “I... er... something changed. Someone brought out the best in me.”

“Why don’t you tell her who it is, Nicky?”

“Why don’t you just shut the  _fuck up_ , Nancy!” Dominic snapped, standing up from the table and hearing his chair clatter to the floor. “I’m  _sick_  of you meddling in my affairs!”

“Dominic, I will  _not_ tolerate that language in my house! If your father was here...”

Annie paused, and in his angered, exhausted state Dominic took advantage of the momentary silence. “He’d do what, hey? What  _exactly_  would dad do? Hell, he’d probably pat me on the back for defending what I believe in. What I love.” He watched Nancy’s eyes widen in shock as she realised the weight behind his confession.

When he looked back to his mother, she was crying. “Annie...” he said quietly, unable to call her by a more affectionate term. He reached for her arm but she bristled at his touch.

“Get out of my house,” she said quietly, “and don’t you dare come back until you’re truly sorry for what you’ve done, for destroying us like this.” She raised her head, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re gay? Fine, okay, I can deal with that. You’re in love? Excellent, brilliant, I’m happy for you. But just because your father’s gone, it doesn’t mean that you can start acting like this. Nancy’s been talking to me, you know...”

Dominic grit his teeth: Nancy must’ve told him about their arguments, and possibly even the time he almost killed a Voix with his bare hands.

“But you are not to set foot in this house until you think about the shame you’re bringing upon this family,” she said firmly. “Go... go pack a bag or something. Get out of my sight.”

Dominic swallowed, nodding shakily. “Fine,” he said, walking towards the front door, not even bothering to pack a bag. “But if you think  _this_  is shameful... then God help us all.” He shrugged on his jacket and stepped out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Annie sighed, slumping down into her seat and shaking with sobs. “Mum...” Nancy started, but her comforting hand was shaken away.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into  _you_  either, Nancy, so don’t you dare act like this isn’t any of your fault. Go upstairs and think about what you’ve done.”

Nancy huffed, striding from the room and stomping up the stairs. Annie heard the bedroom door slam shut. “Oh Fleck,” she whispered, “what are our children becoming?”

*

_Knock knock_.

“Scrap.”

_Knock knock knock._

“Scrap!”

_Bang. Bang_.

“Scrap if you don’t open up, I swear--”

“You swear what?” his best friend said as he opened the door, rubbing at one of his eyes. “Could you keep the noise down? My little sis is asleep,” he said. “Woah, Dom, what happened?”

“I... my mum kicked me out. Just for the night,” he rushed to say when Scrap’s jaw dropped. “I just need a place to crash, just for tonight because I’m too tired to fight off anyone down on the park benches. Please?”

Scrap nodded, biting his lip. “Sure, man. My mam’s got the flu so don’t wind her up, but you’re free to stay on the sofa.”

“Thanks, Scrap,” Dom smiled. “And your  _mam_  loves me, I seem to recall.”

“That better not be a sexual joke,” his burly friend warned.

“Jesus, Scrap, no! That’s gross for your thoughts to go there in the first place. Ew, no offence,” Dom laughed. For the first time that afternoon, things felt a little brighter.

*

Matthew had fallen into the kind of sleep that came only when the events of the day finally began to shrink away from him. That evening, he had done little other than lie with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling and thinking. He had been tired - more than tired, in fact - but for some reason his mind had betrayed him, supplying him with equal feelings of guilt and pleasure. Guilt because of Adora. Pleasure because of Dominic.

He turned onto his side, breaths soft and calm as his hand unconsciously gripped tightly onto the edge of his pillow. He was dreaming. A quiet huff escaped from between his lips as he rolled onto his back again, eyelids fluttering. The peace with which he had slept before was now a memory, as he tossed fitfully in the bed, noises of discomfort and panic filling the room. “It’s not my fault,” he mumbled, hands fisting in the bed sheets. “Please, father, please, it’s not my fault!”

He jerked violently and lay still, his chest rising and falling calmly once more. The curtains fluttered in a gentle breeze, which wound into the room through the open window; the moon hung bright and sharp in the sky, bathing the room in a silver-white glow. He seemed paler and entirely more beautiful than usual, strands of hair illuminated by ethereal light.

Both the mansion and the land surrounding it were silent, but for the quiet rustle of trees in the wind and the wash of the waves over the sand. The town of St. Pierre was silent too, as if holding its breath. The air was still and calm, the stars twinkling overhead. Only they knew what was to come that night, and how it would change every second that followed. But, for now, there was silence, and Matthew was asleep.

That silence, that absolute, pristine silence, was gone within the blink of an eye. A lone figure was walking up the path to the manor by the sea, while Matthew slept soundlessly within. Dressed entirely in black, the Voix was a blemish upon the silence, [whistling](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EcKORO8S6m8) loudly as he walked.

He passed through the main doors as if he had been given a key, still whistling as he ascended the stairs. His footsteps were loud and echoing, but still Matthew slept, unaware and innocent. The man in black turned once on the correct floor, following directions he had memorised. Still whistling, he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, only to see an empty room. White chiffon drapes blew out suddenly in a gust of wind, but there was no sleeping figure in the bed he had been told would hold a future Unique.

Pursing his lips, he closed the door and turned, humming the same tune softly under his breath before heading to the only other room on the floor. Suddenly he fell quiet, the tune he had been whistling all but forgotten as he pressed an ear to the door and listened hard. Yes, there were breaths coming from that room. Soft and quiet, barely able to be heard, but breaths nonetheless. A smile making its way to the man’s lips, he began to whistle again, opening the door.

The man in black stood on the thick pile carpet and surveyed the sleeping figure. Matthew was curled tightly into a ball, facing the door. His forehead creased as he felt the stare of the man, even through his dreams, and with bleary movements, he awoke.

Matthew had barely enough time to register the man sitting on the edge of his bed with a syringe in his hand. Confused beyond belief, he sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Who--?”

“This isn’t the end,” the man said softly. He reached out for Matthew’s arm, sliding the needle into the pale flesh before the Voix could make any movements to retaliate. Matthew gasped suddenly, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he fell back onto his pillows. “It’s only the beginning.”


	22. foi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew and Dominic both reacquiant themselves with faith...

“Keep his arms tucked into his sides, Theodore.”

“I’m  _trying_ , Nathaniel, but he’s not a very deep sleeper, he keeps wriggling.”

“I’d ask the guy up front to give him another dose but he... he creeps me out,” Nathaniel whispered, the two men falling silent to hear the eerie whistling descend over their small party once again. The night was foggy and they were struggling to see two metres in front of them as they carried the body through the streets.

The unnamed Voix who had administered the sedative was walking in front of them, just a silhouette to the darkness surrounding them on all sides. He had been whistling even as he had carried the sleeping body out of the Bellamy mansion singlehandedly.

“Watch it,” Theodore hissed as Nathaniel stumbled on a cobble in the street.

“ _Ta geule,”_  Nathaniel spat in return.

“No,  _you_ shut up! I’m sick of you constantly--”

Theodore stopped talking as the man ahead of them stopped whistling. He turned around slowly, only the lower half of his face visible under the large hood of his ceremonial cloak. “Will you both be quiet?” he said slowly, the question deliberate and powerful. Two pale hands emerged from the sleeves of the robe and peeled back the hood, revealing shining golden hair.

Nathaniel and Theodore almost dropped the body in their shock at seeing an Ancien before them. “Yes, sir,” Nathaniel stammered. “Sorry, sir.”

Paix nodded slightly in recognition. “Come,” he said, turning around to face a large looming building. “We’ve arrived.”

*

Matthew wasn’t quite sure whether he was awake or dreaming.

“Is he in his chambers?” Joie asked, looking nothing like the Ancien she was in a deep black cloak.

“Yes, and is Adora?”

Joie nodded at her brother. “Out like a light, she sleeps deeply.”

“Unlike Matthew.”

There was silence between the siblings until Joie spoke up once more.

“Paix... I have the feeling this Cachant will take a long time,” she admitted quietly.

“I agree,” Paix said, solemnly, “ **t** hey need to develop, moreso than some of our previous Uniques... but they have six weeks until Hope and Glory arrive.” There was a pause. “I believe it will take...”

Matthew couldn’t hear any more as the voices faded; whether they were walking away in his dream or whether he fell asleep again, he would never know.

*

Matthew had never been so frightened, or so amazed, in his life.

The room he was in was so large that it shouldn’t have been called a room, and this was in the eyes of a man who had lived in a mansion all his life. It was almost pyramid-shaped; the four walls sloped upwards slightly to where the point would be, but instead it had been cut off and it was an open-air atrium. Light spilled down from the opening onto the terracotta tiles at Matthew’s bare feet, casting a square of sunlight nearly in the centre of the room.

The room, Matthew finally noticed, was incredibly dark. He was used to white furnishings, or creams or pastel colours at a push. Everything was black and red except for the pristine white robes he’d been dressed in. The bed covers he was wrapped in were a dark red, the lone table and chair were made of a dark wood and the two doors at opposite ends of the room were dark also. Matthew was curious as to what lay either side of them, but not curious enough to want to move.

Experimentally flexing his fingers, he stared up at the ceiling and through to the clear blue sky. He was comfortably warm and content; his skin felt soft and clean, and he could have easily stayed where he was until the sky darkened to black and the stars began to creep out from behind the veil of daylight.

Eventually, and after at least half an hour of simply looking, he stood up and carefully walked across to one of the doors. It opened at the lightest touch. Inquisitively, he peered into the room. It was a large, cavernous place, similar in size to the room he had just left. Without the sound-absorbing furniture, however, his footsteps echoed as he walked inside. It was bare, except for a rack of dark, fluffy towels and a large, square bath tiled in black. It had been set into the floor, rather than raised out of it. He curiously dipped a toe into the water. It was warm.

Turning back into the furnished room, he closed the door to the bath and made an immediate beeline for the other door. This one, however, was locked, and didn’t even have a handle. He pushed with all his might, but could find no way of opening it. Giving it up as a lost cause, he sat down on the bed again, staring over at the locked door and wondering. There was something symbolic about it, in that he would need someone from outside to open it and--

“Oh,” he whispered in awe.

The realisation hit him like a wave, knocking the breath from his lungs. He had been placidly accepting this reality for it had been so utterly dreamlike - the bath, the bed, the pyramid room - but now it had become so sudden and  _real_. He was in Cachant, and he was going to become a Unique.

Running a hand over his face, he sucked in a deep breath and shook his head. “Oh my God,” he mumbled. “Quelle horreur.”

He lay back on the bed, turning to the side and, for the first time, noticing the letter addressed in perfect cursive with his name. He grabbed it, ripping it open with speed, his stomach clenching in anticipation as he read.

_Dear Matthew,_

_As you have probably realised, you are now in Cachant, and so you will remain until you are ready. It is very important that we make clear to you now that it is not possible to determine when you will leave. You will, of course, be aware that some Uniques take only days, and it has also been known to take years. My brother and I have our speculations, but we shall not divulge anything - how shall you keep track of time with only the sun and the stars as your guides?_

_The ceremonial aspects of Cachant are of course very secret and only my brother and I, and any past, present and future Uniques will ever know the true happenings of this process. The building you are in has been specially designed to withhold your reflection from you so that you will never know when - and, indeed, if - you are ready to leave. This building has been used for centuries, and it is with the utmost respect and reverence that you should treat it - but of course, you know this better than most._

_The bath, too, is a key part of this process, and one which you should not treat lightly. Each day, you must immerse yourself completely in the water, washing away all impurities and making yourself clean. Concentrating on your hair is important, as it is the only thing that will determine you as a Unique._

_As well as your body being pure, your mind and soul must also be immaculate. In order to keep your love for Adora focused and unspoiled, it is highly suggested that you refrain from indulging yourself; it would be uncouth to do so in such a temple to our heritage._

We wait for the outcome of this Cachant with anticipation. God bless, Matthew, and good luck.

Paix et Joie  
Anciens de St Pierre

Matthew let the paper flutter from his fingers onto the floor. With a long, deep sigh, he pulled the generous hood of his cloak right over his face and curled up on the bed once more.

*

The sky was a mottled blue-grey when Dominic stumbled into consciousness. Rolling onto his side, he groaned at the shot of pain that crawled up his spine. Though he was thankful of Scrap’s generosity, he was distinctly ruffled by the fact that he had been forced to sleep on the sofa. It was old, lumpy and uncomfortable, and he had spent an unpleasant night tossing and turning, limbs splayed awkwardly as he failed to sleep.

Finally, though, he had scraped together a few hours of rest, and woke with the sunlight streaming through patchworked, beaten curtains. He groaned. Having forgotten that he was not in fact in bed, he rolled over and consequently fell, with a loud bang, onto the rough hardwood floor.

“Bollocks,” he muttered under his breath, massaging his bottom as he heaved himself onto his feet.

“Are you alright, lovey?” asked a concerned voice, and his head whipped around at speed to see Scrap’s mother - a dumpy, kind-eyed woman named Maggie whose distinct resemblance to a bulldog had made him perpetually terrified of her as a child - standing at the foot of the stairs, peering at him in concern. “I heard a bang,” she explained, waddling into the room with a chuckle.

“Fell off the sofa,” he declared meekly, grinning as she approached him. She stopped in front of him, looking up at him with eyes that had never changed in the years he’d known her. A hand reached out and stroked down his hair affectionately.

“You’re such a handsome little boy, aren’t you, eh?” she said, shaking her head with a soft smile. It promptly disappeared, her hand slipping down to his shoulder and squeezing lightly. “Dominic, lovey, why are you here? Scrap told me that something had happened and I did wonder whether...” She shook her head, frowning. “You don’t have to tell me anything, lovey, I’m just concerned.”

“I...” Dominic faltered, suddenly unsure of what to say. Should he tell her the truth? Or should he lie to her? He couldn’t lie to everyone - and besides, his family now knew everything. And yet look what good honesty had done him in that respect. It was because his family knew that he was now being forced to spend the night at Scrap’s. Inwardly, he cringed. Maggie looked so expectant and hopeful. He didn’t know what to say.

“I had an argument,” he said slowly, thinking as he spoke. “With Nancy. And then Mum got involved and... I just thought that it would be better if I stayed away from the house for a few days. I’ll find somewhere else to stay,” he added hurriedly. “I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

“Lovey, you’ve never been a nuisance in this house. You’ll always be welcome.”

Dominic smiled, nodding thankfully. Uncertain of exactly how to express his feeling of gratitude, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “Thanks,” he mumbled awkwardly. “For everything, I mean, not...not just for letting me stay. You’re family to me, Maggie.”

Maggie chuckled, hugging him closely. When she pulled back, her face was blushing violently. She smoothed down his hair again, still giggling, abashed. “You’re so sweet,” she said. “You know, Scrap’s never this warm towards me - I wish he would be from time to time.”

“Yeah, well, mam, the times I do tell you I love you might be few and far between but at least then they’re more special, eh?” Scrap’s voice wandered into the room before he did. When he did finally appear, he was dressed simply in a pair of holey pyjama bottoms. He grinned. “Am I family to you as well, Dom?”

“ **‘** Course you are!” Dom laughed, throwing a cushion at him. He caught it deftly and balanced it on his head.

“How about this one, mam?” he did a slow pirouette, all three glouglous laughing as the cushion toppled to the floor. “I was thinking we could all wear cushions with chinstraps for the big ceremony.”

“What big ceremony?” Dom asked, at exactly the same time as Maggie.

Scrap, brandishing a newspaper, gave them both a meaningful look. “You not seen the paper?” he asked, unfolding it and thrusting the front cover in their faces.

Dominic’s stomach dropped. Feeling distinctly sick, he held back the urge to grab the newspaper and rip it to confetti, and settled instead for a shocked expression.

The headline was simple, precise and to the point.  _Cachant has begun!_

Matthew was going to be a Unique. Matthew was in Cachant. He was hidden away from the world for an indeterminable time and there was no way that Dominic was going to be able to see him until he and Adora were released to the world as the two brand new Uniques.

Seizing the paper from Scrap, Dominic sat down on the sofa and skim-read the article as fast as was humanly possible.

_Uniques-in-waiting... Matthew Bellamy and Adora Constantine... long-lasting relationship... Bellamy’s parents, Agostino and Calliope... Cachant... unknown period of time... a ceremony shrouded in mystery... love and togetherness... Uniques... Matthew... Adora... Matthew and Adora... future Uniques... Paix and Joie... St. Pierre waits in anticipation... Matthew and Adora... Matthew and Adora... Matthew and Adora... Matthew and Adora..._

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Scrap’s voice pulled Dominic back to the present.

Maggie had disappeared, presumably setting about making breakfast, and Scrap was sitting beside him on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Dominic replied numbly. “Really exciting. Can’t wait to see what happens.”

Scrap laughed, shaking his head pitifully. “I know exactly how you feel, man. Nobody even gives a fuck, do they?” He nudged Dominic with his elbow conspiratorially. “But everyone just lies and says that they do.”

“Listen,” Dominic said suddenly, barely even aware of what he was saying, “Scrap, I need to tell you something, and you have to swear not to tell anyone, okay?”

Scrap’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, a secret,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No, Scrap, I’m serious. This is a really fucking big deal, and if you ever tell anyone I can’t ever trust you again.” Standing up, Dom began to drag Scrap away from the sofa and upstairs to his bedroom.

“Dom, where are we going? What are you--? You better not be trying to take advantage of me because I have pepper spray and I really don’t want to have to use it on you but--”

“Scrap.” Dominic snapped, shutting the door quietly behind him and steering his friend to sit down on the bed. “If you say one more word, I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Alright, alright, fucking hell, Dom, I’ll shut up.”

Dominic sighed, fiddling with his fingers as he briefly attempted to work out what it was he could say to explain just what was going on in his head. “You know how I’m... I’m the songwriter for Matthew Bellamy?” he said carefully, testing the words in his mouth.

“Yeah...”

“Well, a while ago, me and him were alone in my office...”

The story seemed to take forever. Coupled with Dominic’s pauses as he delved into the slightly more intimate side of things, and the fact that he was almost constantly glancing sidelong at Scrap to see the expression on his face, the entire explanation took over half an hour. He could feel his friend shifting awkwardly beside him, and wasn’t sure whether he should have told him anything in the first place.

Finally, though, the story had to come to an end, and as Dominic silently told himself to breathe, Scrap pulled a face.

“Well,” Scrap said, blinking. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and then slapped it against his knee. “Firstly,” he said with a nervous smile, and Dominic relaxed a little, “I had absolutely no idea that you swung that way,” he said with the graciousness only a lifelong friend could manage.

“Scrap, it’s not so much that I  _swing_  that way, it’s just--”

“Yeah yeah, just Matthew and the plot for revenge thing, I get that. Secondly,” he said, chuckling to himself and waggling his eyebrows, “as if you’re banging a Voix!” Scrap clapped Dom hard around the shoulder, the songwriter wincing but still managing a smile.

“We’re not--”

“Banging, fucking, cuddling in front of an open fire, it’s still all the same, Dom! And I bet you want to anyway, right?”

The blush that coloured Dominic’s cheeks answered for him.

“Exactly, Dom, exactly. Always knew you thought with your dick,” Scrap teased.

“Scrap!” Dom shouted playfully, clapping his friend around the arm. They descended into a mock fight, Scrap pinning the smaller down boy onto the bed within seconds.

Looking down at his friend, Scrap suddenly said, “your dad would be proud of you, you know.”

The smile disappeared off Dom’s face. “Wh-what?” he said, as Scrap released him and let him sit up again.

“He would. He’d want you to be happy, that’s all he’s ever wanted for you,” Scrap said slowly, watching as Dom’s gaze wandered elsewhere. “I know you’re not quite happy yet, and I know it’s gonna take some working out, but that’s all he’d ever want and he’d be proud that you’ve been working so hard for something you love.”

Dominic met Scrap’s eyes on that final word, lips forming a word but not quite uttering it.

“Well? Do you love him?”

“I... I don’t know,” Dominic said to himself, his voice wavering.

“Mate, you’ll know. And think about it; would you really be risking life and limb for, number one, someone so unobtainable and, number two, someone who you don’t even know is good in bed or not!”

“Scrap, you are unbearable sometimes,” Dom said sourly with a smile on his face.

“You wouldn’t last without me though,” Scrap said, standing up. “C’mon, Mam’s making pancakes.”

Scrap was right on two counts, Dominic decided as he followed his best friend downstairs. He knew that he couldn’t do without Scrap, for starters, but he also knew that when the time was right, the Matthew Bellamy problem would resolve itself.

*

It was so quiet.

Matthew, sitting cross-legged on his bed, stared at the opposite wall, lost in his thoughts. He had nothing to do but think in this awful empty room and his thoughts were not the best company. Absently, his fingers began to curl around the plain, dark bedsheets, grabbing fistfuls of fabric and tugging at them.

He was thinking about Dominic, but his thoughts were not solid. They seemed untouchable and constantly moving, unable to stay in the same place for long. Brief flashes of the glouglou’s face passed across his mind’s eye. One second, he was laughing. The next, he was shouting. It continued in the same unstoppable way until, with a deep breath, Matthew lifted himself from the bed and walked towards the bathroom.

He needed something - anything - to take his mind away from what lay outside the room. Tugging a hand through his hair, he decided that now was a better time than any to do as Joie’s letter had instructed and bathe himself. The idea of making it into some kind of ceremony seemed ridiculous, but nobody was watching him. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

He undressed, discarding his clothes on the tiled floor and dipping his foot into the water. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself into the bath, submerged past his stomach. The water was comfortably warm and soothing.

Matthew flicked at the surface of the water with his right hand, watching a droplet skitter across the surface. Sighing quietly, he racked his brains, attempting to remember the contents of Joie’s letter.

He had to submerge himself completely under the water, and there was something to do with his hair being important - that much, he could remember. Filling his lungs with oxygen, he screwed his eyes shut and dipped his head beneath the surface.

Bubbles escaped from between his lips. Had Joie mentioned anything about how long he was supposed to stay there? Worries clawed at his stomach, and the urge to breathe was tapping lightly at the back of his head. Perhaps a second passed, and he opened his eyes, able to see nothing but his pale limbs floating in the water. He raised a hand, his movements dulled by the changes water made, and stared at it, his eyes beginning to sting. Something about the silence of underwater, and the fact that the only sound he could hear was his pulse, had left his surroundings feeling ethereal and detached.

Finally unable to stay there any longer, he pushed at the base of the bath and emerged, gasping for breath. His chest rose and fell heavily, but as he let his back come to rest gently against the wall of the bath, he cared little for the feeling of vulnerability. His eyes fell closed; he could have slept there, had he wanted to. But instead, he found himself guiltily wishing for Dominic, that the glouglou would find his way into Matthew’s prison and promise him that he’d be fine.

Curling his lip bitterly, shaking the droplets out of his hair and reaching for a bar of soap. “Don’t be so ridiculous,” he told himself, his voice echoing in the cavernous room.

*

Dominic kicked a stone all the way to the park in Sector Three. It was a quiet park set back from the hubbub of the sector market and parade of pop-up shops. It was schooltime and Dominic presumed he didn’t have work (not that the Bellamys had bothered to inform him otherwise) so the park was silent, save for the sound of water lapping at the edges of the lake.

Beyond the park and at the top of a small hill, though, was his destination.

Glouglous didn’t have many rights, but one that  _had_  been passed down through the generations was the right to a peaceful resting place. The small graveyard beyond the park was fenced with wrought iron, with huge cherry blossom trees shedding pink petals onto the tombstones below. Dominic had only been here once before, and that was on the day his father was lowered into the ground, his hatred for Matthew Bellamy at its utmost peak.

“Times have changed,” he whispered, as he crouched beside one of the many plain gravestones. They were engraved with the glouglou’s number, given name and a simple quote about them. Fleck’s declared that he was a “loving husband and father, who put the whole world before himself.”

“Times have changed and I can’t make sense of it,” Dom repeated as he sat beside the grave, fingers playing with a stray petal of cherry blossom. “I don’t know whether or not you’d be proud of me, Dad.” Sighing, he looked up, seeing a baby in the arms of its mother as they walked past the entrance to the quiet space. She nodded at Dominic, a sign of respect for both him and Fleck, the blond-haired baby cooing in her arms.

It spurred him onwards.

“I’ve fallen in love, Dad,” Dominic whispered, the secret rushing into the summer breeze and leaving him feeling much lighter than before. “I’ve fallen in love, but would you accept me if I said it was with a man?”

The breeze blew stronger around him then died out completely, leaving the warm sticky air to cling around his body. Dom blinked twice in succession. “I’ll consider that as a yes,” he whispered with a morose smile on his face. He abandoned the petal in favour of another. “But it’s not just any man, Dad. It’s the son of the monster who killed you, and I’m still struggling to come to terms with it all.”

The wind picked up again but Dom continued his one-sided conversation, regardless.

“He’s not like his father though,” he hurried to say, defending Matthew desperately. “He isn’t... alright, sometimes he pouts and throws a tantrum but he’s not like his father. He’s everything his father doesn’t want him to be. He doesn’t really want to be a Voix, he’s just the embodiment of his father’s dreams.”

Sun shining down on the park, Dominic raised his head. The rays hit the surface of the lake and made it glitter as it rippled under the caress of the wind. “He’s different, Dad. And I know it’s not lust. When I speak to him, it gives me a fluttery feeling here,” he said, shaking fingers brushing the fabric covering his stomach, “and I never felt that before with Rory. It’s new and exciting and...”

He trailed off as another person walked past where he was sitting, the hat pulled low on their head. Dominic’s blood turned to ice in his veins as he considered the thought of someone finding out his darkest secret, and with it running straight to Le Monde.

“I’m scared, Dad,” he admitted sheepishly. “I’m scared for our future. I don’t want to be apart from him. I have to be apart from him, now, because he’s over in those temples and I can’t get to him.”

From the park’s advantageous position on the slope of a hill, Dominic could gesture to the two pyramids in the distance, bleached a bright white in the sunlight. He’d been into that gated enclosure several times in his life to watch the crowning of the new Uniques, a ceremony that bored him completely because he would never be able to see anything and it was always blisteringly hot.

Now, however, there wasn’t anywhere in the world he’d rather be but beyond those golden gates.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dom sighed, a hand stroking the limestone of his father’s gravestone. “What should I do, Dad?” he whispered, pressing his head against the cool stone. “I’m so scared. If you were here, you’d be able to say something that would make everything alright again. But... but you’re not here, and I need you. I wish you were here.” Taking a deep breath, he stood up, taking one last look at his father’s grave. “Talk to you later,” he mumbled, eyes slowly filling with tears as he walked away.


	23. racaille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friend or foe?

Scrap’s mother was making a casserole as Dominic arrived in the kitchen. Quietly, not wanting to disturb her, he pulled up a chair and sat down at the table, watching her busy herself over a pan. She hummed tunelessly, though he recognised her attempts as a song his father had written long ago.  
  
Screwing his eyes shut, he took a shuddering breath and said, “Hi, Maggie.” Anything to stop her humming that song.  
  
“Oh! Hello, lovey!” she turned, hands on hips as she appraised him. “Didn’t hear you come in. How’re you feeling?”  
  
“I’m good,” he lied, twisting his fingers. His vision blurred for a moment; he blinked, Maggie’s concerned face suddenly in sharp focus.  
  
“Hm,” she said doubtfully, turning back to her pan. “Well, you just missed Scrap. He went off somewhere with Bob’s girl - told me to tell you that he’d be spending the night at hers and that you could sleep in his bed for tonight.”  
  
“Thanks,” Dominic said, nodding, and then the rest of Maggie’s words caught up with him. “I didn’t know he was seeing Rory. Is this just a new thing or...?”  
  
“Rory, yes, that’s her name.” Maggie nodded to herself. “No, he’s been seeing her for a long time now. They’re courting, I think, or whatever word you lot use these days.”  
  
“Oh,” Dominic stared at the table, frowning. Scrap had a _girlfriend_  now, a girlfriend who had previously been Dominic’s. Just how long had he been so detached? Just how long had he cared so little about the lives of everyone around him?  
  
“Don’t worry, lovey, you haven’t missed much. She’s a nice girl, though. Sweet, and pretty too.” Maggie sighed, shaking her head. “I’d have much preferred him with your Nancy, though. She’s a looker, ain’t she?” the bulldog-woman let out a bellowing laugh, placing the lid on top of the pan and turning to face Dominic again. She slowly lowered herself into the seat opposite him, smiling fondly. “I remember when you two were just little - talk of the town, you were, new twins. Everyone came to see you.” She chuckled, eyes in the past. “You were a quiet one, definitely, but Nancy - she was a crier. She used to yell the house down; drove your mam and dad insane.”  
  
“She still does,” Dominic said quietly, the ghost of a smile disappearing entirely from his face. “My... my Mum, I mean. Because... because Dad’s not...”  
  
“Oh, lovey, I’m sorry,” Maggie said hastily, her hand clasping his. “I forgot. Oh, you poor thing.” She cast her eyes around the room, presumably searching for a distraction, and found one in the newspaper that lay neatly folded on the table. “Excited for the new Uniques?” she asked, a little too loudly.  
  
“Absolutely,” he said, and he wasn’t sure whether he was lying to her or not.  
  
“And you wrote the song for Matthew, didn’t you? Just like your--” Maggie caught herself, swallowing down the compliment that had already wiggled its way into Dominic’s mind. “I hope this Cachant goes well,” she said desperately, her cheeks flushed. “I remember one a few years ago when a glouglou managed to get into the temples. Caused a hell of a lot of mayhem, shouting all sorts of dreadful things, and then - would you believe it - he tried to blow the entire place up! Course, he ran away soon as he realised it hadn’t gone as he’d planned.” Shaking her head and frowning heavily, she gave a heavy sigh. “Some people have the right ideas in their head but go about it the wrong way. Violence won’t make equality.”  
  
“Hang on,” said Dominic slowly, eyes slowly rising to meet Maggie’s. “A glouglou managed to get into the temples? Why haven’t I ever heard about this?”  
  
“Well **,**  think about it,” Maggie said. “There’s not many a Voix who’d gladly give a glouglou ideas. It’s not exactly a well-known fairytale. People were... unofficially banned from talking about the whole thing. It would have been before you were born, lovey. It fell out of circulation, really. I only remember it so vividly because I knew a lad who was in contact with Robin 3... 6? Yes, 367422.”  
  
“Robin... That’s not a popular glouglou name. Who was it?” Dominic asked, interest sparking at the base of his skull.  
  
“Oh, lord, Robin 367422. He was in my class at school, you know. Nice enough lad, very well-spoken and clever. A little too clever, I think. He used to get into a lot of trouble for questioning Voix ideology. When we left school, he managed to hold down a job for a few weeks and then disappeared off the face of the earth. I used to fancy him,” she added, quite seriously. “Very attractive, very charming, very charismatic. Able to do what the bloody hell he wanted, generally.”  
  
“And he... he was the one who--”  
  
“Tried to blow up the temples, yes.” Maggie nodded. “He was a radical, I think. That’s what happens when you give children ideas and let them run away with them.”  
  
“It was just him, then? All on his own?”  
  
“Oh, no, he had his little band of followers. A number of boys and a few girls followed him around like sheep at school, and when he disappeared, they did too. Called themselves the _Résistance_. He was their ringleader, I suppose.” Pausing to yawn, she gave Dominic a look that suggested she was enjoying this more than she should have been. “I remember, on the morning of the unveiling, the end of Cachant, my friend - Zak, he was called - he seemed very odd, and I asked him why, and he told me not to go because something was going to happen. He knew, you see. He was with Robin.” She paused again, shaking her head pitifully.  
  
“What happened to Robin, in the end?” Dominic whispered, almost afraid to ask.  
  
“Oh, he survived. Something went wrong with his bomb, or whatever it was he did, and the few people who’ve seen him since say he lost his looks in the explosion.” Maggie shuddered. “I don’t know. Rumours tend to change people. Anyway, last I heard of him, he and his silly little  _Résistance_  were hiding out somewhere in Sector Eleven.”  
  
“Sector _Eleven_?” Dominic repeated in disbelief. “I didn’t know there  _was_  a Sector Eleven.”  
  
“It was a work in process,” Maggie explained. “Over on the other side of the hill, I think. They discontinued the project - can’t remember why. Must have been something to do with...” she trailed off, frowning. “No, can’t think. It’ll come to me.”  
  
Maggie stood up, pushing her chair heavily back under the table again. “Well, lovey, the moral of the story is... don’t upset the Voix.”  
  
Dominic forced out a laugh, nodding and smiling. “I think you’re right,” he said, a plan already forming loosely in his mind. Sector Eleven. That was where he had to go.

*

It was one o’clock in the morning, and Scrap’s house was silent but for the sound of Maggie’s rumbling snores. Her husband had arrived home late from work, and so Dominic had been forced to push his plan forward several hours. Maggie’s husband was a meek man, but very friendly and kind, and Dominic had wanted to see him at least once before he left.  
  
Holding his breath, he pulled open Scrap’s bedroom door and sidled out, creeping towards the landing. He descended the stairs one at a time, slowly and steadily, for fear of making a noise. Eventually, however, and with no major incidents, Dominic found himself outside, breathing in the cold night air.  
  
Maggie had said that Sector Eleven was on the other side of the hill. He’d never been over that side before. It all looked so new and far away. As a child, he had never really thought about it - it was only now that he realised there was a whole side of St. Pierre he had never seen.  
  
His heart was in his throat as he quietly crept along silent streets. He was up past curfew and it would take just one brief glimpse of him for someone to cause a panic. His breaths shallow and short, he jogged along the cobbled roads. At the base of the hill, he stopped, staring up at it. Was he _really_  going to do this? Judging by Maggie’s comments, Robin didn’t seem particularly...  _sane_. He didn’t want to get involved in this mess.

A few months ago, when the death of his father had still been fresh in his mind, Dominic would have taken a completely different stint. He would have gladly joined up to Robin’s little gang - anything to get revenge. But now, he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know whose side he was on any more.

*

The journey to the other side of the hill was filled with thoughts. They swirled around Dominic’s head like bees, harsh and stinging. He barely even realised that he was there until his foot impacted with a discarded iron girder and he fell, crashing to the floor.  
  
“Fucking hell,” he hissed under his breath, massaging a bruised shin as he got to his feet. He looked up and around, craning his neck at the unfinished buildings which would have housed thousands of glouglous, had the Voix been bothered to allow them to be finished. Evidently, there were more important things than trying to solve the overcrowding problem.  
  
He stumbled along the road, sidestepping piles of litter. Swallowing down a yelp as he saw a gigantic rat scuttle across the road, he hugged himself, his breath misting in the cold air. He had no idea where he was going. Maggie hadn’t said anything specific about where Robin was hiding, just that it was somewhere over the hill. Robin could be _anywhere_.  
  
“Stop right there!” a voice yelled suddenly. Freezing, Dominic turned his head every which way, trying to find the source. “Who are you? Friend or foe?”  
  
“Uh... friend?”  
  
There was a pause. “Are you asking me or telling me?”  
  
“Telling you? Wait, no, I’m telling you. Definitely telling you.”  
  
Another pause. Dominic glanced around again. “Put your hands in the air where I can see them!”  
  
“Um... okay. Done.” Dominic raised his hands above his head, not sure whether to laugh or cry.  
  
A scuttle of footsteps - _oh, God, there’s more than one of them_ \- from all sides. Something cold pressed against the back of his neck. “What is your name?” breathed a voice from behind.  
  
“Dominic.”  
  
“Voix scum!”  
  
“Nope. I’m all glouglou.”  
  
“You dare lie to me!”  
  
“I’m not lying, I promise!”  
  
The cold metal suddenly pulled away. The person shifted around to face him; in the dim light, he could see a man’s face, badly burned and scarred. The gun was pointing directly at Dominic’s head.  
  
“See? Look. I’m a glouglou. Want me to prove it?” Dominic cleared his throat and let out a whining gurgle of a note. It was truly horrendous. “There you go. If I’m a Voix, you can castrate me.”  
  
The man swooped closer, eyes bugging dangerously. “I may just take you up on that offer, child. Come with me!” He turned on his heel, sweeping off into the night, the cape on his back fluttering in the breeze.  
  
“Fucking hell,” Dominic muttered, rolling his eyes as he followed the man. His ears picked up the sounds of at least five other pairs of feet following him. “The things I do for you, Matthew.”  
  
He was led through the darkness, with only the sounds of footfalls to follow them. Soon, they were standing at the opening of a tunnel, presumably what would’ve become the sewer system but thankfully for Dominic, never coming to fruition.  
  
The man in front of him stopped abruptly at the lip of the concrete tube. “Hold my cape,” he said.  
  
“Wh-what?” Dominic asked. He could see perfectly well down the tunnel, he didn’t need to hold onto this madman’s cape so he could be guided like a child.  
  
“Hold my cape. I do not wish for it to get dirtied,” the man said, Dominic rolling his eyes. He was worse than Matthew, he decided as he picked the tatty and muddied edge of the cape from the floor. No, he was even worse than Agostino in the diva stakes and he took some serious beating.  
  
They continued down the tunnel, hushed whisperings echoing off the rounded surface and taunting Dominic, making him want to look around at the dancing shadows but also not wanting to lose face. Finally, the tunnel opened out into a larger area, a table made of corrugated iron in the middle, surrounded by makeshift benches.  
  
“He sits there,” the man said simply, pointing at a seat made out of a blue oil barrel and not looking the least bit comfortable. Dominic lowered himself into it, trying not to let the pain register on his face as the others around him seated themselves.

“Welcome,” the caped man said. “Welcome to the home... of the _Résistance_ ,” he whispered, not sounding nearly as dramatic as Dominic presumed it was meant to. The man cleared his throat and continued. “I am Robin, leader of the future, and you are?”  
  
 _We’ve been over this,_  Dominic thought. “Dom,” he said. “Just Dom.”  
  
Robin beamed, as if their previous debate over Dominic’s name and identity had never happened. “Splendid!” he said with a flourish of his hands. “What brings you here to our humble home?”  
  
Dominic kept a poker face, even his tiny wooden hut in Sector 3 was more of a home than his could ever be. “I need to get into the temples.”  
  
A gasp went up around the room but Robin remained unfazed. “Why do you need to get into the temples?” he asked, although only a madman would have a reason different to Dominic’s.  
  
Or, perhaps, Dominic was the madman.  
  
“I have vermin to kill,” he said coolly, swallowing and looking Robin right in the eye.  
  
“They must be pretty big rats if they’ve made it into the temples,” Robin said quietly, a twinkle in his eye emerging with a shift in his demeanour. Dominic was no longer a stranger. Dominic was on their side.  
  
“Huge,” Dominic drawled, and the word hung heavy in the air. Robin nodded once, and with a wave of his hand, the people around the table stood up and hurried away. As Dominic looked around blinking, Robin began pacing around the table towards him.  
  
“The _salaud_  or the  _salopette_?” Robin asked, and Dominic had to clench his fists at hearing the Voix in those temples being called a bastard and bitch respectively.  
  
“The _salaud_ ,” he spat convincingly, the next line coming from his heart with a frightening ease. “His father killed my father, and so now he must die.”  
  
Robin nodded again, lowering the hood of his cape to reveal a bright red shock of hair. Suddenly, the name _Robin_  made a lot of sense. “I’ve hated the Bellamys ever since I first learned of Agostino. His excuse for a child is no better and I admire your vendetta.”  
  
Dominic felt sick to the core. The arrogant, crazy man standing before him was only tolerating him now because he’d admitted a desire to kill. Was that all their world revolved around nowadays?  
  
“You came to the right place,” Robin continued, oblivious to Dominic’s inner turmoil. “We can train you up, we can teach you how to get into those godforsaken temples without so much putting a dust mote out of place. At a price, of course.”  
  
“A price?” Dominic spluttered incredulously. “I want Matthew Bellamy dead but not if it’s going to cost _me_ ,” Dominic said, the words slipping from his tongue like those of a professional actor would.  
  
“We need to be sure you’re dedicated,” Robin began, starting to pace as he flicked his cape over his shoulder. “We’ve had many a young, doe-eyed glouglou turn up here, swearing on the heart of Joie that they’ll take the life of a Voix, but they pansy out as soon as we take them to the armoury.” A wave of nausea rolled through Dominic’s stomach at the thought but he let it go. “The initiation task, should you choose to accept it, is to bring us a Voix artefact.”  
  
The room fell silent as Dominic rolled this over and over in his mind. “That’s _it_?” he asked.  
  
“It’s quite a challenge, you insolent boy!” Robin shouted, his arrogant side coming out on full display. “Many do not return at all, for this task is so perilous!”  
  
Dominic thought about the bottom drawer of his dresser at home, crammed full of things he’d simply swiped from tables in the Bellamy mansion because they’d intrigued him. He thought about the countless original scores in his office, the blazer of Matthew’s hanging on the back of his door, the stained doodle of Adora’s on his desk. Robin didn’t have the faintest clue who he was, and thus had made this task the easiest of Dominic’s life.  
  
“Okay,” Dominic breathed shakily. “I just... wow. Okay. This is going to be a massive challenge for me, but I’ll try my hardest, because I really want to change our future,” he said, trying not to play up to the dumb blond his sister always insisted he was. Robin smiled at Dominic’s answer and dismissed him with a wave of his hand.  
  
“Return in a week,” he said, Dominic wincing as his back was turned. “And it had better be good.”


	24. sauveur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Follow me to your destiny..."

Six thousand, seven hundred and eighty tiles.  
  
That was the number of visible tiles in his room, at least. There were some his eyes couldn’t quite distinguish, high up near the atrium. The table (doomed to uselessness by Matthew within the first week as he had little need for it - he ate his meals with the plate in his lap, on his bed) was fixed in place, which also obscured more tiles from view.  
  
Three hundred and twenty two droplets.  
  
One evening, when studying the constellations through the keyhole which was the atrium became tedious, Matthew purposefully let the tap drip after his bathing ritual. He set it to a painfully slow rate, counting the tiny splashes for almost four hours before sleep finally took him.  
  
Matthew had begun questioning the meaning of all this pomp and circumstance. He was sure that they were simply trying to drive him mad; that this was a painful death for those Voix who weren’t good enough, and the real Uniques were being crowned as he poured scalding hot water over himself.  
  
But then Matthew remembered the mess that was Dominic and Adora, and he decided that he might prefer insanity after all.  
  
Regardless, the days and nights continued to drag by in the endless cycle of time.

*

Dom was beginning to think that the  _Résistance_ was all a bit of a joke, and the saddest thing about it was that this realisation had disheartened him. Ever since hearing about this underground group of glouglous that were working against the Voix, he had been lifted from his despair. But now, having met the ringleader of the group, he was disappointed to know that his kind had not a shred of hope for the future.  
  
Sighing bitterly, he shook his head. He didn’t even know what his future would look like, with the offering in his hands and the wastelands of Sector Eleven sprawling before him. Within the next hour, he could be welcomed with open arms or forced back into his harsh reality of wanting something he’ll never have.  
  
He had to take a risk **;**  he had to take a chance.  
  
It’s exactly what Dom had done to even secure the offering. He could’ve chosen a petty trinket but his heart had beaten faster and a grin had crept onto his face when he realised what the  _perfect_  offering was.  
  
Although, the satisfaction of securing it had been almost  _too_  easy. Agostino and Calliope had been spending more and more time at their summer house, something proclaimed daily in  _Le Monde_ , and so the Bellamy mansion was empty, save for the household staff. Under the guise of collecting more staff paper, Dom had walked into his office under the scrutiny of another glouglou before turning on his heel and bolting upstairs.  
  
Matthew’s room was clean and cold, even though it was blisteringly hot outside. The offering had been sitting on his bedside table, lacking only a large sign saying TAKE ME because it was that simple.  
  
For a moment, Dom had wondered if it was some intricate, twisted set up for his sins.  
  
Now, as he waited at the entrance to the tunnel with the offering hidden in one of Matthew’s silk pillowcases, his body thrummed with anticipation.  
  
“Who goes there?” a voice, familiar to Dominic as Robin’s, barked out in the darkness.  
  
“It’s me, Dom **,”**  he called, raising a hand in a wave. “Hello again.”  
  
There was a swish of fabric rustling against the floor. Dom rolled his eyes, eyes trying to seek out the man with only the light of the moon to help him.  
  
“Oh,” Robin sounded disappointed as he revealed himself with a dramatic pirouette. He sprung towards Dom with great leaps, landing with an unpleasant squelch in a puddle before Dominic’s feet. They both looked down. “Those were new shoes,” Robin said quietly.  
  
“Sorry about that.”  
  
“You should be!” the glouglou barked suddenly, pointing a quivering finger. “Why have you come here, fool?”  
  
“I got the... uh... the artefact thing you were going on about.” He shook the pillowcase helpfully. “Right in here. It was really difficult to get it,” he added with a nod and puppy dog eyes.  
  
“You may tell us your story momentarily, boy! For now, you must follow me...” he paused, apparently for dramatic effect, “to your  _destiny_!”  
  
Dominic pursed his lips. “Sounds good,” he said, and they traipsed off together back into the tunnel. “Listen,” he said suddenly, his voice echoing, “this isn’t going to be a really long journey or anything, is it? Because I kind of need the toilet.”  
  
“We have a bucket you can use,” Robin said impatiently, dismissing the query with a wave of his hand.  
  
The rest of the journey through the tunnel passed in silence. Eventually they emerged into the open area designated as a chamber of sorts, and Robin threw his hands into the air, turning in a slow circle. “This...” he declared majestically, “is our home. Treat it well, and we will treat you in the same fashion.”  
  
“That’s very kind of you,” Dom said, shifting from one foot to the other as he felt several pairs of eyes on him. There must have been at least thirty other people in the room, all staring at him like he’d just grown another head. They looked grubby and tired and sad, but there was something in their eyes that looked stronger than most of the glouglous he saw elsewhere. He gave a woman a timid smile. She smiled back.  
  
“Now, child! What is it you wish from me?” Robin yelled.  
  
“Robin.” The woman Dom smiled at called over to him, shaking her head. “Robin, he’s already done all that. It’s the artefact you want off him now, petal.”  
  
“Oh. Of course.” Robin swished his cape impressively, swooping his red hair back from his eyes. “The artefact, boy!” he said, holding out his hand.  
  
Dominic looked between Robin and the pillowcase, holding his breath as he rummaged around in his makeshift bag. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of heart palpitations and sweaty palms, he produced his offering and held it out to the redhead.  
  
“What is this?” Robin shrieked, whipping the item from Dom’s hands as the echoes crashed around the room.  
  
“A photo album,” Dom said slowly, chewing on his bottom lip.  
  
“Well, yes, I can see that,” Robin said impatiently, rolling his eyes. “But...” he opened it slowly, and his words fell away from him. “My God. My  _God_...” he whispered. “How did you  _get_  this?!”  
  
Dominic grinned. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people edging towards Robin, to get a better look. “It’s a long story,” he said with a shrug.  
  
Robin’s head snapped up to look at him, his mutilated face desperate. “You have to tell me, boy. Tell me how you got this.”  
  
Dom sighed, arms folded across his chest. “I don’t want to give away my secrets.”  
  
Teeth gritted, Robin snapped the photo album closed. “I don’t know how you did it, boy, and it doesn’t look like you’re ever going to tell me... but I fear I may have underestimated you.” He passed the book to another glouglou, reaching out to clasp Dom on the shoulder. “Welcome to the  _Résistance_ ,” he said solemnly. “You have truly earned your place. Mark my words, child. You  _will_  get into the temples, and you _will_  get your vengeance.”  
  
The relief that poured through Dominic’s body was incredible. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Thank you so much.”

*

The next week dragged and flew by at the same time. Dominic was desperate for it to pass; he worried that as more time was put between the present and the last time he saw Matthew, Matthew’s desire for him would’ve faded to a point where risking his life to see him would be completely unjustified. It also flew by at the same time, the skills he learned and the people he met confusing him beyond belief, without time to process it all.  
  
Emotionally, Dominic was unstable. He had returned home once, when he knew both Annie and Nancy would be out of the house, to collect some fresh clothes and a certain special possession, and to leave his mother a proper goodbye.  
  
 _Annie._  
  
 _Mum._  
  
 _I’m staying at Scrap’s house for a bit. Not because I don’t want to come home, no, God no. I’m sorry for shouting at you, and ~~I’m even sorry for arguing with Na~~. As I said, Mum, there’s someone I love, and right now I’m doing something that will hopefully unite me with him. It’s complicated, you see._  
  
 _But... it’s dangerous. I’m putting my life on the line for him. But I’m okay with that, because Dad would want me to stand up for what I believe in._  
  
 _I can’t come back home, because I don’t want the bad things I’m doing to trace back to you. Tell Nancy that, believe it or not, I really do love her, and I hope she has a happy life._  
  
 _I’m going to try my hardest to come home in one piece, Mum._  
  
 _Dom x_  
  
Since then, he hadn’t even walked near the house, scared that someone knew exactly what he was training for. He continued to sleep on Scrap’s sofa, looking over his shoulder everywhere he went and becoming more alert by the day.  
  
He put that down to his training, though. Within the space of a week, he’d learned how to throw a proper punch (although, he was convinced he knew that already), he’d learned how to thrust a dagger straight into someone’s heart (well, a sandbag’s core) and he’d learned how to fire an old flintlock pistol. Robin had imparted on him all his knowledge of the temples, and Dominic had even been surprised when blueprints had been rolled across the corrugated iron table, intricate details about locks and pipes and other things laid bare before his eyes.  
  
Dominic was scared, if only because it looked so  _easy_.  
  
“The fortress...” Robin had said, Dominic rolling his eyes as the arrogant man refused to refer to it as a temple, “is absolutely impenetrable!” he said, swooshing his cape and pointing a quivering finger in Dominic’s face. After the point had been made, he continued to pace across the room. “Well, it mostly is. There is only one way, really, that it would be possible to get inside a temple to kill a Unique.”  
  
Dominic had, over the past few days, gotten incredibly good at not wincing at the thought of Matthew with a dagger in his back.  
  
“There’s the connecting lobby,” Robin said, pointing at a rectangular piece on the blueprint. It connected two large squares, which were the temples. “It has four doors going from it. Two of them go into the temples. One goes out the front, only used on the day that the Uniques emerge for the crowds. This one, though,” he said, pointing to one leading to a maze of smaller rooms, “this is the glouglou entrance, this is what you want to be interested in.”  
  
Dominic would be doing it disguised. That back door led to rooms that kept the temples functioning: a kitchen for the Uniques’ meals, a stock room full of shampoo for their bathing rituals, a small room full of tools for repairing anything broken and a room full of robes and towels to be laundered. It was a self-contained unit guarded by a handful of glouglous who were kept on heavy rotation. As such, Dominic actually knew half of them from school, and the other half from his Sector.  
  
These guards wore dark robes, with hoods right up over their faces. In the dead of night, as he stood at the bottom of the hill that led up to the temples, he was nudged in the back. Turning around, Dominic barely had a second to grab the bundle of clothes before his dispatcher was fleeing down the road. He shrugged the robes over his jeans and grey t-shirt, the fabric consuming his lithe body whole.  
  
Dominic breathed in and out slowly as he walked up the hill. There was a dagger strapped to his thigh, and his right hand still ached from where Robin had gripped it and wished him  _the best of luck, martyr_. He approached the back gate of the temple complex, something much less grand than the other entrance. It squeaked open as he passed through, alerting his presence to the guards.  
  
The guards were glouglous, yes, but they were armed to the teeth and instructed to kill anyone, Voix or otherwise, who stepped through the gate. Thankfully, Dom’s attire stopped his ribs from becoming intimate with a blade.  
  
Yet.  
  
He nodded solemnly as he pushed open the door into the complex, the place nearly deserted now that the Uniques had been fed, watered and clothed for the day. A lone glouglou or two wandered the corridor in their black robes, looking miserably bored. Dominic ducked into a side room he had memorised as a pantry, plucking the first item of food he came across from the shelf  - a packet of bite-size chocolate cakes curiously filled with orange jam - and tucked them up his sleeve.  
  
Dominic ascended a small flight of steps into the main lobby, head snapping left and right towards each temple door. He thought, no, he  _knew_  Matthew’s would be to the right, but he was caught in a moment of panic. What if he was remembering wrong? What if he was using reverse psychology on himself? What if--?  
  
“Oi!”  
  
Dominic spun right, to the sound of the voice. A taller, black robe clad man stood before him. “What are you doing here?”  
  
Gulping hard, Dominic tried his answer, hand slowly and inconspicuously moving towards his dagger, just in case. “Midnight snack for Master Bellamy,” he said, managing to keep the quiver out of his voice.  
  
“Oh.” The glouglou before him sounded disappointed that he wasn’t a glouglou intent on killing Bellamy instead, like so many others were rooting for Dominic to do. “Well, go on in then.”  
  
Dominic blinked. Was that it? No dagger to the throat or gun to the temple or even a simple fist fight? He tried not to pout as his hand gripped the doorknob tight, ready to push the door open.  
  
“Just knock three times when you--”  
  
Dominic’s hood had fallen back slightly, his wide grey eyes caught in the light of a nearby candle. The guard had recognised him, and he suddenly dropped to his knees.  
  
“Forgive me, sir. You may take as long as you want,” the guard said, not even trying to meet Dominic in the eyes.  
  
“I’m sorry?” Dominic sputtered incredulously. “ _Sir_?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” the guard said, raising his head slightly. “You’re the one who’s come to relieve us from glouglou tyranny, aren’t you?” Dominic stayed silent, worried that somehow, someone had found out about his and Matthew’s predicament. “Robin has told us how you will make a statement to St. Pierre that the glouglous will be victorious.”  
  
But, as soon as Dominic heard Robin’s name, he exhaled. “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat and putting a hand on his heart. “I mean, yes, it is I, Dominic 815231184, freer of the glouglous,” he said, trying to live up to the role placed upon him.  
  
“Thank you sir, take all the time you need, sir, I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed,” the glouglou said, shuffling backwards before standing up, still with his head low. With a quick bow, the guard scurried away, leaving Dominic alone with his thoughts.


	25. nous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So tell me when you're gonna let me in..."

Dominic shook his head to himself, wondering how, possibly, things could’ve gone better. He quickly slipped through the door and shut it softly behind him before he jinxed things.

“Wow,” Dominic breathed to himself as he took in his surroundings, grandeur on a scale of which he’d never seen before. His eyes alighted on the dark bedsheets and the human sized lump inside them, and prayed once more that this was Matthew’s room.

His steps echoed in the barely furnished room, the only light sources were the flickering candles and the endless stars through the atrium above. Dominic breathed in deeply, before taking one step further towards where Matthew’s head would be.

If, in fact, he were in the bed.

Dominic pulled back the poorly made duvet, finding the pillows to be abandoned in the middle of the bed. It dawned on him that Matthew had been left to his own devices regarding housekeeping, and he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He sighed, placing the packet of tiny cakes on the bedside table and looked around, confused.

Just then, he heard the sound of water splashing. Curious, he made a beeline past the unkempt bed and to a large door that had been left slightly ajar. He pushed it and it swung open with barely a sound. His footsteps pressed lightly against the black tiles as he walked further into the room.

The sight that greeted him was possibly one of the most beautiful things he’d ever experienced.

Matthew - it could only have been him, the bright blond shock of hair something he hadn’t seen in three weeks - was sitting, motionless, in a pool of water that rose to  his elbows. The nubs of bone that made up his spine stood out in sharp relief against the paleness of his skin, and his shoulders rose and fell with barely noticeable movements as he breathed.

Dominic took a step further into the room. His movement caused the slightest noise, but it was loud enough to break the perfect silence, and Matthew whipped around, eyes wide. “Who are you?” he yelped, the water splashing over the sides of the bath as he moved. “Show yourself!”

Dominic took a deep breath. He raised his hands to the black hood and pulled it back, revealing his face.

Matthew’s expressions ranged from shocked to momentarily terrified, fearful to angry, and finally settled on simple surprise. “Dominic,” he breathed, long fingers clutching at the edge of the bath as he knelt on the floor of it. Bubbles rose up to the middle of his chest, Dominic found when his eyes wandered. “What... how...” he shook his head numbly, lips a flat line. “I don’t understand how you’re here,” he whispered, “but you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Dominic affirmed with a nod. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Matthew said faintly. He looked back down at the bath for a moment, a drop of water beading on the end of his nose and splashing into the water. “Could you pass me my towel?”

Dominic thought about it for a second. “No.”

Matthew cocked his head to the side slightly. He knew Dominic was a special kind of glouglou and that they were _friends_ , as he’d be loathe to admit, but he’d never been defied as bluntly as he just had been.

“I asked you to get me my towel,” Matthew said, slowly and deeply, fingers clutching the bathtub edge tighter.

“And I said no,” Dominic said, a smirk on his lips and his eyes dark.

“Are you diso--” Matthew’s question died on his tongue. “Oh,” he whispered to himself, repeating it a few times for good measure. “You... I...”

Dominic slowly nodded as Matthew’s cheeks rouged. He felt abnormally calm and controlled, considering he was somewhere he didn’t belong, intent on doing something he should never, ever do.

With a little nod to himself, Matthew met Dominic’s eyes again. The glouglou had the decency, at least, to keep their eyes locked as Matthew pushed himself to standing height; the sound of water dripping from his body tempted Dominic’s eyes to wander but he held his resolve.

Matthew stepped up out of the bath and onto the tile, eyes finally level with Dominic’s. He advanced towards the glouglou, but as his breath hitched, the Voix changed direction, reaching for a towel on the rack. Dominic’s resolve crumbled and his eyes lowered, catching a glimpse of Matthew’s pale bum and unable to hold back the minute sigh that followed.

However, in a room so cavernous, the sigh simply echoed. Matthew turned around, a dark red towel clenched in his hands. He stepped towards Dominic again, the only thing cutting through the tension being the sound of water droplets crashing to the floor.

Matthew’s blue eyes were indecipherable, as he turned away slightly to dry himself. He ruffled up his dripping hair, quickly moving onto his arms and chest before hurriedly drying his legs. Dominic contented himself with watching the play of Matthew’s shoulder blades under his porcelain skin as he dried his more intimate areas.

When their eyes met again, Matthew’s had a deeper quality to them. The kind Dominic had seen after the Voix had trashed his bedroom, after they’d argued next to the grand piano, after Matthew had summoned him to his parents’ bedroom and--

The towel dropped to the floor with a soft thud. They could taste the tension on their tongues and feel it thrumming in their veins, all the while blue locked with grey in some battle of morality. They both knew the consequences of what they were doing. Dominic could be killed, and Matthew wouldn’t be much better off.

But then Dominic stepped forward, and all of those thoughts dissolved out of their heads.

Dom reached out for Matthew’s cheek with his left hand, thumb stroking along his cheekbone and smiling when Matthew let himself be touched. The three weeks had been long, but the bittersweet procrastination of the task at hand somehow added to the allure of it all.

Matthew’s eyes flickered away slightly as he stepped even closer. They were inches apart now, their chests only a hair’s breadth from touching. “I never thought I’d say this... but I’ve missed you.”

Grinning, Dominic’s eyes flickered to Matthew’s mouth and back. “Longest three weeks of my life,” he whispered.

Matthew raised an eyebrow at Dominic, one hand sliding up Dominic’s robe from his chest to his shoulder. “You shouldn’t be looking at me like that. This place is meant to be sacred.”

“Bullshit,” Dominic laughed quietly, leaning in minutely. Their foreheads pressed together, Dominic finding himself having to explain at Matthew’s small pout. “Oh, er, _connerie_.”

“True,” Matthew whispered after a moment. “They told me to refrain from _pleasuring myself_.” The words rolled off his tongue like they had a sour taste.

“Well,” Dominic said, and the pitch shift left Matthew feeling hot and cold all at once. “They’re _really_ not going to like what’s about to happen, are they?”

Matthew couldn’t even protest as Dominic’s lips touched his, eyes closing and hands reaching for Dominic’s neck. Matth pulled the glouglou closer towards him, the kiss was frantic and primal, words spoken with hisses and moans as they reacquainted themselves with each other’s tongues.

But this time, there was nothing to stop them. No rationality, no fear of getting seen or even discovery itself. Dominic had already seen Matthew naked, yes, but now he could take the slow time to appreciate him.

If, that is, Matthew would let him go.

“Matthew,” he whispered, breaking away. Their eyes met with ferocious want, Matthew’s breaths short and fast. “Matthew, I--”

“Shh.” Matthew’s nose nudged against his, their lips brushing lightly for a fraction of a second. “Don’t.”

“But--”

Matthew shot him a look that was neither angry nor forceful, his fingers sliding against the warm skin at the back of Dom’s neck. “Have you noticed,” he breathed against the glouglou’s neck, “that I appear to be naked?”

“It may have crossed my mind,” Dom replied distractedly, eyes flickering as Matthew began to press kisses to his jaw, just below his earlobe.

“Because,” Matthew muttered, the vibrations of his speech sending shudders along Dominic’s spine, “in contrast, the amount of clothes you’re wearing is simply unacceptable.”

Matthew’s hands grabbed at the fabric around Dom’s thighs, helping to pull the floor-lengthrobe up his body. Just as Dominic began to bring the fabric over his head though, Matthew’s fingers brushed something hard against Dominic’s leg.

“Wh--” Matthew mouthed, his fingers gripping for purchase as he kept his eyes upwards, unsure of Dominic’s state of dress under the robe. It was rectangular. He frowned. “Dom, what is this?”

The robe made a whooshing sound as it fell to the floor, and Matthew allowed himself to look down, once he realised (bitterly) that Dominic was wearing clothes beneath the robe. “Oh, that,” Dominic said, looking at the leather scabbard strapped over his jeans to his thigh. “Well, it’s a dagger.”

“I can see that, Dominic,” Matthew said sourly, and when Dominic looked up, the Voix’s arms were crossed against his bare chest, a throwback to the beginnings of their relationship. “Why did you bring a dagger?”

“It’s a cover.” Dominic sighed as Matthew raised an eyebrow. “I found out how to get in here because I promised this resistance army that I was going to kill you,” he said with a shrug. “I had to look the part.”

Matthew looked furious. “ _What_ ,” he drawled, not even a question.

“I haven’t really come to kill you, my God,” Dominic said, turning around and walking away into the main chamber. He could hear Matthew’s footsteps quick and close behind. “I wouldn’t use my favourite dagger for that.”

“You... _what_?” Matthew asked, this time his tone flooded with curiosity. “Dom, you... what?”

Dominic smiled to himself, happy that he’d defused the situation somewhat. He put his foot up on Matthew’s desk chair so he could unbuckle the scabbard. “Didn’t you know? Every glouglou household has at least one. For the things that go bump in the night,” he said, turning his head around. His breath hitched.

Matthew had escaped the periphery of his vision as he’d focussed on his dagger, but now the Voix’s face was incredibly close to his own. “We’re so different,” he whispered, blue eyes sparkling as their noses touched. “This is so wrong.”

“I don’t care,” Dominic mumbled, dropping the scabbard to the floor. Matthew’s eyes flicked to it, the clattering noise not as interesting as Dominic, however, when his eyes were drawn back to the glouglou. He ran his pale hands up tan arms, Dominic’s dark t-shirt and jeans a complete opposite to Matthew’s skin. Their lips touched again as Matthew scrabbled at the hem of the shirt, desperate to strip the glouglou of all his clothing.

In the very back of Matthew’s mind, a voice whispered to him that he wanted to strip Dominic’s morals, too. Strip him down to absolutely nothing, because that was truly what he was.

Dominic toed off the trainers he was wearing as his t-shirt fell to the floor, his hands gripping Matthew’s hips hard as the Voix’s tongue made its way into his mouth. Matthew mewled and the sound spurred Dom into action, slowly walking them towards the bed.

Matthew sat down on the edge of the bed with a huff, their mouths breaking apart. Reaching behind himself, he threw the pillows and half the duvet to the floor as Dominic pulled off his socks. The Voix squirmed into the middle of the bed as Dominic knelt on the edge, crawling forward.

Confusion ran strife in Matthew’s mind. The fact that he felt aroused by the dark, predatory stance of Dominic, the _male glouglou_ , was a pill too big to swallow. He didn’t know what was happening; he’d been taught that sexual intercourse was for procreation and nothing more. It was a consecration of love, and... _is this love_? Matthew asked himself, screwing his eyes shut as his back hit the headboard.

“Matthew?”

The voice was light and quiet, it couldn’t have been Dominic’s. Cracking an eye open, Matthew saw Dominic sitting back on his heels, a hand outstretched towards him. “Matthew... is everything alright?”

“I... You...” Matthew struggled for words, pressing his knees together and leaning to one side, suddenly feeling very exposed. “You have to understand,” he said in one rushed breath, “that this is probably the most frightening experience of my life.”

Dominic grinned from ear to ear. “That’s so cute,” he said, the outstretched hand drawing a line on Matthew’s thigh. The Voix batted it away.

“I am _not cute_!” he sulked, pouting. The façade was simply to try to convince Dominic that he wasn’t afraid, although he knew in the deepest part of his heart that the glouglou could read him like a score.

“Yes, you are,” Dominic said in a much more serious and reverent tone, “and it’s okay to be scared. I’m petrified, and I’m meant to know more about it than you do.”

A mildly comfortable silence descended over them both, as Matthew stared off to the side and Dominic’s eyes ran over pale flesh. Matthew’s quiet voice broke the stillness in the room.

“So we’re going to do it,” he asked, in more of a statement than a question.

“What do you mean by _it_?” Dominic asked, now only teasing to try and lighten the mood. Matthew sat up slightly, drawing his hands together as he began to explain.

“You know, Dom. _It_. The thing that you glouglous do for fun,” he said, still trying to mask his fright.

“Well, yeah, I guess,” Dominic said, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s probably one of the reasons I came here tonight.”

“Only one?” Matthew asked, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Well... there was another but I’ll tell you later,” the glouglou rushed to say, shifting ever closer to Matthew. “More importantly, do you want to do _it_?” he said, a smile on his face as he watched the Voix’s expression flicker.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, trying his hardest not to curl in on himself again. Aside from the audition, Dominic was sure that this was one of the only times he’d seen Matthew with every single one of his walls down.

“What are you scared of?” Dominic’s voice had reduced to a whisper, as he reached for Matthew’s hands, linking them together as he pecked his lips.

“Just...” Sighing, Matthew turned his head away from Dominic’s infinitesimally, but enough to make his intentions known. “It’s all so foreign. This... having _sex_ for pleasure.”

Dominic tried not to laugh as Matthew said sex like it was a sour lemon in his mouth, the facial expression he pulled afterwards only adding to the dramatics. “Don’t be scared. You can trust me.”

“I shouldn’t be able to trust you,” Matthew whispered, a blush painting his cheeks. “I should look at you and hate you, but I don’t, and it scares me. More than anything physical, that’s what scares me. Everybody’s changing and I don’t feel the same. I’ve always counted on myself as being something constant, even if everybody around me is different. I’ve never _wanted_ to change before. I’ve always liked myself--”

“More like _loved yourself_ ,” Dom muttered, catching the Voix’s eye. They both grinned.

“See? That’s what I mean!” Matthew said, his voice heightening in pitch. “A few months ago, I would have had you hanged for speaking to me like that. But... it’s different now.”

“Because you’re a better person. You haven’t changed for the worse.” Dominic felt suddenly nervous as he knelt on the bed, scrutinised by Matthew’s big blue eyes. There was silence for perhaps ten seconds, while glouglou and Voix stared at one another, both surrounded by their own thoughts.

And then, as if a switch had suddenly been flipped, Matthew kissed him, and it was unlike any kiss he had ever experienced. Savage and unrelenting, the Voix’s hands gripped at his jeans, tugging blindly as their tongues clashed. Dominic pulled Matthew closer, hands clutching at his slim waist. After a few moments of frenzied and muffled movement, Dominic reluctantly pulled back from the Voix’s swollen lips, pouting. “What are you doing?” he hissed.

“I’m...” Matthew looked up, a deer caught in headlights. “I don’t know. Trying to undress you?”

“Listen, I have a bloody _fly_. You can’t just rip my jeans apart trying to get me naked.”

“Really? You wanna bet?” Matthew’s giggle was soft and short, silence claiming them both once more as his long-fingered hands trailed slowly along Dominic’s stomach, hooking under the lip of his jeans and carefully undoing the button and zip. “There. Better?”

“Much better.” Dominic replied, kicking out of his jeans with a certain sense of relief.

“You’re still wearing clothes,” Matthew noted petulantly, one hand experimentally brushing over the prominent bulge in Dominic’s boxers. With even this briefest moment of contact, Dominic could feel the anticipation creep upon him and, suddenly unable to hold himself back, he planted his lips upon Matthew’s once more. He sat back on his heels as he pulled his boxers off, Matthew’s quiet gasp rattling in his bones as he threw them to the floor.

They shifted on the bed, Matthew now flat on his back as Dominic settled between his legs, their bodies joined from mid thigh to their mouths. The Voix’s legs wound around Dominic’s back, drawing him impossibly closer as the glouglou allowed himself to rock against Matthew’s crotch.

“Dom... what... what are you doing?” Matthew breathed heavily, on the verge of panting as his head rolled back, neck exposed. Making the most of the opportunity, Dominic nipped at the skin with his teeth, causing Matthew to groan.

“Do you like it?” Dominic asked, hands gripping Matthew’s bony sides as he sped up his hips, the friction a delightful burn as he resumed his tiny bites.

“Yes,” Matthew hissed, his own hands clutching onto Dominic’s shoulder blades, leaving red trails in their wake.

“Then don’t question it,” the glouglou replied, his bites turning into sloppy, wet kisses and eventually returning to Matthew’s mouth. “Don’t even think about anything, just think about how good it all feels,” he mumbled, breath hot against Matthew’s flushed face. The Voix swallowed, nodding as he returned the kiss. Dominic’s left hand abandoned Matthew’s side, trailing downwards and making him shudder as fingers traced the crease of his thigh.

“Oh!” Matthew shouted as Dominic’s fingers were suddenly between them, stroking just behind his balls. “What... oh... Dom...” A pleasurable shudder rippled through him as he lay as still as possible, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Jesus, Matthew, don’t hold yourself back,” Dominic said softly. “I love it when you moan for me.”

A whimper escaped from between the Voix’s lips and Dominic glanced upwards to see him throw his head back, chest rising and falling heavily. “Don’t stop,” Matthew moaned, hands scrabbling to touch the first part of Dominic he could reach. “Please don’t ever, ever stop.”

Dominic grinned, his fingers leaving their current position and walking along Matthew’s body, back up towards his face.

“What did I say about not stopping? Did you hear that, or--?”

Dominic quelled his words with a single, dark-eyed glance, a finger resting lightly against Matthew’s bottom lip. “Open,” he said quietly, but his single word carried a command that Matthew had never heard from the mouth of a glouglou.

“I--”

With Matthew’s lips parted in protest, Dominic took his opportunity and slid two fingers into the Voix’s mouth. “Now suck.”

Matthew’s eyes were wide, but as his cheeks hollowed and tongue began to roam he started to relax, his shoulders sagging as he looked through half-lidded eyes at the man above him. After a perfect silence, interrupted by nothing but quiet breaths, Dominic pulled his fingers away and resumed his previous position, glancing up at Matthew before laying a gentle kiss to the soft skin of his inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” Matthew asked slowly, though he did not appear fearful or worried. He was completely relaxed, staring down at Dominic as if they had all the time in the world. Which, for now, they did.

“Just relax,” Dominic replied. “I’m... gonna make you feel good.”

“Oh.”

Dominic took a deep breath, eyes breaking reluctantly away from Matthew’s as he traced a wet finger around Matthew’s entrance. However, at the sound of Matthew’s gasp, he looked up and his hand suddenly found his cock, desperate for some kind of release.

Matthew was writhing with Dominic’s fingers still outside his body, and the anticipation of what they were going to do made Dominic’s cock twitch. Matthew’s head was tilted back, one hand lazily rubbing against his pale chest whilst the other was gripping at the dark sheets.

He looked like an angel, Dominic thought.

With his left hand gripping his cock, neglected up until this point, he slowly pushed one finger into Matthew’s heat, watching the expressions washing over his face as Dominic remembered how good it had felt when he tried it himself.

“ _Putain de merde_ , it _hurts_ ,” Matthew hissed as Dominic slowly began moving his finger inside him. “How is this pleasurable, fucking--”

“Touch yourself,” Dominic ordered, his voice thick and heavy. Matthew opened his eyes as he watched Dominic’s hands working both of their bodies. There was something almost sensual in his tone that saw Matthew’s right hand wrap around his cock. Suddenly, all the pain was replaced with pleasure as he tried his hardest not to thrust up into his fist.

“I still don’t... how is... _oh_!” Matthew’s rambles were cut short, as Dominic crooked his finger and Matthew jolted on the bed, as if a thousand volts of electricity had passed through him. “ _Qu’est-ce que_...”

Matthew’s question died on his tongue as Dominic added another finger, both men gripping themselves harder as their panting filled the air. The Voix tried to drive himself down onto Dominic’s fingers, earning himself an amused chuckle from the glouglou.

“What do you want, Matthew?” Dominic whispered, leaning down close to Matthew’s ear and releasing his cock in favour of supporting himself on the bed. “ _Dis-moi_ ,” he murmured, curling his fingers and keeping them pressed into that spot, watching Matthew tremble beneath him.

“ _Ton... ta..._ ” Eyes rolling into the back of his head, Matthew’s free hand clutched at Dominic’s hair. “ _Toi_ ,” he babbled, the glouglou’s fingers withdrawing as Matthew tugged painfully on his hair. “ _Toi, toi toi toi_.”

Dominic sat back on his heels, licking a stripe across his left palm. He was hard, painfully so, and he gave his cock a few lazy tugs in preparation. It was a fine line keeping him from finishing himself off, there and then.

But then there was Matthew, with his bright white body against the blood red sheets. He looked like he was glowing, as his hands tugged at his bright blond hair and as his cock lay flushed and leaking against his hip. Dominic bit his lip, edging closer to Matthew and holding his hips. Instinctively, Matthew’s legs wrapped around the glouglou’s waist as the head of Dominic’s cock brushed against Matthew’s entrance.

“It’s going to hurt,” Dominic whispered, any sense of control or domination removed from his voice. It was filled with an emotion Matthew was too far gone to put a name to, yet. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Matthew nodded as Dominic leaned close for a kiss, slowly pressing himself into Matthew. He swallowed down the Voix’s scream, gripping the sheets hard as Matthew’s fingernails clawed at his back. Their lips broke apart and Matthew spluttered to himself.

“Fuck!” he shouted, head twisted to the side and apparently in enough distress to use glouglou swears. “That really fucking hurts!”

“I’m feeling pretty good actually,” Dominic smiled lazily, pecking Matthew’s nose when the Voix scowled at him.

“Don’t just fucking sit there, _bouge_!” Matthew protested, earning a dark chuckle from Dominic for his efforts. Keeping a steady pace, even though all his instincts told him to drive it home, Dominic pressed deeper into Matthew, only stopping when he was balls deep.

He looked down at the Voix, with wide pupils and a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead. “You alright?” he asked, giving Matthew’s sides a slight caress as they paused, almost like there were in the eye of a storm. He was gulping down air, but after a few long, drawn out moments he relaxed, looking up at Dominic.

“ _Oui_ ,” he simply said, a small smile tilting the corners of his mouth. Dominic took it as his cue to pull out slightly and push back in, thrusting shallowly just to see how Matthew would react.

Suddenly, everything was worth it. All the arguments over petty nothings, all the hurt feelings. All the suspense and agony, all the tears and betrayal. Everything that had ever passed between them simply faded into insignificance, because Matthew was singing for Dominic.

“ _Ohhh_ ,” Matthew sighed, the note high and deliciously long. Dom moaned at the sound, his thrusts becoming longer and deeper, keeping them precise whilst he still had a grip on his control. His senses were in stimulatory overload; with the beautiful sounds Matthew was making, with the body of an angel laid before him, with the feeling of everything, it was almost too much.

Dominic crooked his hips slightly right on a whim, and was rewarded with a delirious scream, but it wasn’t. It was one long, high note; drawn out for a good five seconds and erotic beyond belief, Matthew’s voice shaking in its falsetto. Dominic swore loudly, gripping Matthew’s body tight as his hips began to lose control.

Finally, Dominic found his own voice.

“Fuck, Matthew,” he said as he continued to drive into that spot again and again, although his movements were becoming sloppy. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, not entirely registering what he was saying, “so perfect, _mine_.” Dominic’s hungry eyes watched as Matthew took himself in hand, the flushed head of his cock gliding in and out of his pale fist.

“Dom...” Matthew gasped, the sound of skin against skin suddenly a crescendo in the large room, “Dom, _je... je viens_.”

As Matthew’s moans increased in pitch, Dominic’s rhythm increased in speed. The bed was creaking under their movements, the sheets loose and most of the bedding on the floor. Suddenly, Matthew reached out and pulled Dominic close, their noses touching as the glouglou continued to pound into Matthew as their eyes locked. They kissed messily and Matthew’s toes curled, gripping the bed sheets as he reached his climax.

“ _Dominic_!” he screamed, tilting his head back. The sound intensified all of Dominic’s feelings at once, the Voix dragging the glouglou over the edge with him as they hit their orgasm. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Dom sank his teeth into the muscle of Matthew’s shoulder, the bittersweet scream he elicited ending up as a gurgle, as he slammed into Matthew to the hilt.

There, with his ear so close to Matthew’s mouth, is where he heard it. The calm amidst the chaos, the light in the dark.

“ _Je t’aime_ ,” Matthew whispered to no one in particular, as come slid between their stomachs and inside Matthew. Dominic blinked to himself, very gently kissing the spot he had bitten as they simply laid there and existed. “ _Je t’aime_ ,” he said more steadily, still panting.

Dominic turned his head sideways minutely, the movement registering in Matthew’s periphery as he did the same. They stared at each other, their bodies still connected and the smell of sex still heavy in the air. The Voix smiled to himself, the expression growing until it was a fully blown grin, with his wonky tooth standing proud. He giggled.

Dominic smirked. “What’s so funny?” he murmured, his voice deep and hoarse. Matthew shook his head perceptibly to himself.

“I love you,” he repeated, this time in English. His laugh was almost delirious, riding high on the ecstasy of orgasm. “I... love you,” he murmured, as if the words couldn’t quite roll around his tongue.

Blushing slightly, Dominic nudged Matthew’s nose with his own. “You say it like you’ve never said it before,” he said with a smile.

“I... I haven’t,” Matthew replied, a flash of sadness crossing his features. “But now I have. And it’s you, of all people,” he said with a quiet laugh.

“Positively charmed,” Dominic replied, screwing his nose up slightly as he shifted. “Oh, err... This might... um...”

Dominic braced himself on his elbows, slowly pulling out of Matthew as the Voix hissed quietly. Heaving himself off the bed with a sigh, Dominic padded into the bathroom, knowing that Matthew’s eyes were on his back the whole time. He wiped himself down with Matthew’s abandoned towel, returning to the bed to let Matthew use it.

“I feel all... eurgh,” Matthew said, giggling immediately afterwards. Dominic propped himself up on one elbow, watching Matthew throw the towel aside and wondering if the Voix had ever been this happy in his life.

Dom then wondered if he had, either. He realised that he probably hadn’t ever felt this invincible.

Matthew reached over the side of the bed, pulling the duvet up over them both once again. He yawned loudly, causing Dominic to smile.

“Dom.”

“Yeah?” Dominic obediently replied, a silly smile still plastered on his face.

“This is... if you think about it,” Matthew started, his hands waving in the air as he tried to explain, “this is somewhere only we know.”

Dominic thought about it. He shuffled closer to Matthew and pressed a kiss into his hair as he continued trying to explain. “You know, it’s just us and we’ll be the only people to know, and I love you and--”

“I love you too.”

Matthew blinked, his mouth popping open. Dominic kissed his bottom lip, keeping eye contact as he did. “What?” the Voix breathed, eyes wide and sparkling.

Dominic smiled. “I,” he said, pointing to himself, “love,” making a heart shape with his hands, “you,” he finished, poking Matthew lightly in the chest. They giggled quietly, huddled under the duvet.

“What happens now?” Matthew asked, an almost fearful tone to his voice.

“I don’t know,” Dominic answered truthfully, wrapping his arms around Matthew. “But that’s the thrill of it all.”


	26. honnêteté

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, how the tables can turn...

Matthew slowly blinked into consciousness, his sluggish mind trying to work out why something was different. He tried to shift the duvet away from his eyes, to allow him to judge the time by the amount of light in the room, but something was keeping him in place.  
  
He looked down his body, trying to work out why the duvet felt so soft against his skin. Suddenly, he realised three things: he had slept naked, and a pair of arms were tightly wrapped around his waist. Thirdly, and most importantly, he realised he was happy.  
  
Dominic’s breaths were light and quiet against the back of his neck. He lay still, his eyes open but his mind a world away from the silent darkness of the temples. Every detail of the previous night was foreign and familiar at the same time: the feeling of Dominic inside him, pleasure spreading across every inch of his body, and the unforgettable explosion of emotion that had filled him as he voiced the declaration he had waited his whole life to give.  
  
 _I love you_.  
  
Matthew loved someone, truly and completely, in a way that he had never understood before. Suddenly everything else seemed worthless compared to the sleeping figure beside him. An overwhelming urge to protect Dominic suddenly crept upon him, and with it came the fear and the terror of being discovered.  
  
He turned towards Dominic, fingers splayed against his tan chest, and pressed a gentle kiss to full lips. “Dom,” he whispered. “Wake up.”  
  
Dominic stirred. Blearily, his eyelids parted, revealing grey eyes clouded with sleep. “Morning,” he said, his voice thick and tired. “What’s the time?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Matthew admitted softly. “There are no clocks in here. No way to measure the time. How long  _have_  I been in here?”  
  
“That’s not for me to say,” Dominic replied tightly, though a teasing smile lifted the corners of his lips. He turned onto his back, pulling Matthew with him so that the Voix’s head rested against his chest. Fingers traced invisible patterns over Matthew’s shoulder, a pleasant tickling sensation sending barely perceptible shivers through his body. “Did you sleep alright?”  
  
“The best I have in a long time,” Matthew said. A yawn parted his lips. “I’m so comfortable. I don’t want to move.” He curled his toes, one leg settling between Dominic’s. “Can we just stay here forever?”  
  
“I’d hate to see the world’s collective face when the doors opened at the end of Cachant and you emerged, completely naked, with me hovering around awkwardly behind you. People might get the wrong idea.”  
  
“And what, pray tell, is the  _right_  idea?”  
  
Dominic laughed, the movements of his chest unsettling Matthew’s position. He huffed, sitting upright and shivering visibly as the cool air attacked his previously warm skin. “It’s morning,” the Voix said quietly. “I should wash.”  
  
Matthew swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, dragging a sheet with him to protect him from the cold. Feeling Dominic’s eyes on him, he turned back to the bed, arranging the sheet like a toga as he stood there. The glouglou was lying on his side, watching Matthew with amusement.  “I’m thinking this could be my new style once I become a Unique,” he announced, striking a pose with one hand on his hip and the other defiantly in the air, his legs jutting comically. Even as Dominic began to snort with laughter, he felt the sheet slip from over his shoulders and pool on the floor at his feet, leaving him completely naked and freezing.  
  
Dominic rolled onto his back, clutching at his stomach as silent laughter crippled him momentarily. “Your - your  _face_ ,” he wheezed between giggles, as Matthew’s face reddened in the blink of an eye. “Oh God, oh my God, I can’t breathe...”  
  
He continued to roll about on the bed, beside himself with laughter. Matthew, humiliated, stooped to pick up the sheet and drape it over himself again. “I really don’t see the funny side of this,” he snapped, arms folded across his chest in order to secure the sheet in place.  
  
Dominic, still choking on his own  _schadenfreude_ , beat his hand on the mattress, words popping out between bouts of intense laughter. “And when you - and the sheet - and your face - oh  _God_  - and you - and - and -  _ow_!”  
  
He had rolled perhaps a little too far and was now lying, spreadeagled on the floor, with the duvet hanging over him like a tent. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t laughing anymore. He pouted at Matthew, eyes narrowed.  
  
“You dare,” he said solemnly. “You dare even  _chuckle_  and I will come for you.”  
  
Matthew’s lips pressed to a flat line. “I’m going in the bath,” he said, his voice quivering as he replayed the incident over and over in his head. “I may be quite some time.”  
  
He turned sharply on his heel and marched towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him. A slow smile spread over his face as he bunched the sheet up and threw it into a corner. Feet padding softly across the tiles, he bent down to set the taps running. He had never felt this happy before, ever. No experience with Adora had ever come close to the warm, comfortable completeness he now felt.  
  
With the bath filled, he eased himself into the warm water, sighing softly as he let it wash over him. The silence was absolute.  
  
That is, until Dominic began to knock on the door. “Matthew?” he whined. “I’m all alone. All by myself. With nobody here beside me to wear a sheet and then drop it by accident. All alone. Forever and ever. And ever.” There was a pause, during which Matthew could perfectly picture the glouglou’s jutting bottom lip and puppy-dog eyes. “Hey, what’s this letter thing? Can I read it?”  
  
“It’s just a letter explaining Cachant from Joie,” Matthew called in reply. “It’s far from scintillating, but you can read it if you want.”  
  
Dominic was quiet for a few seconds. “ _How shall you keep track of time_ ,” he said in a high, fluttering mockery of the Ancien, “ _with only the sun and the stars as your guides?_  Bloody hell. You’d think she was writing a poem or something.” A lazy smile crept onto Matthew’s face as he listened to Dominic’s stark review of Joie’s literary masterpiece. He should have been angry - every word was a mockery to all that Matthew aspired to - but for some reason, he couldn’t care less. “That’s nice, telling you to bloody drown yourself as well.  _Washing away_ all  _impurities_? What’s in that bathwater? Bleach?” A bitter sigh. “Oh, it’s getting interesting now.  _Refrain from indulging yourself_. Apparently wanking is very uncouth.” He subsided into silence once more as he finished reading. “Ah, that’s nice.  _Good luck_  and all that. Sweet of her.”  
  
“Why are you talking to me through the door?” Matthew called as he poked a toe out from under the water.  
  
“I’m bored and lonely.”  
  
“No, I mean... you can come in, if you want.”  
  
“Oh!” The door swung open silently and Dominic, wearing naught but a pair of boxers, rushed inside, shutting the door behind him. He stood with his back resting against the dark wood, eyes focussed squarely on Matthew, lying still in the bath.  
  
“Do you...” Matthew coughed lightly, shrugging. “Do you want to come in?”  
  
“Uh...” Dominic swallowed. “Is this not meant to be a sacred ritual or something? I don’t want to muck it up with my glouglou smell or something.”  
  
“Well, I’ve already broken one sacrosanct rule, and I haven’t been speared with a fork of lightning just yet. Besides,” he added, “I want you to come in.”  
  
Dominic seemed to need no more persuasion. His feet carried him across the tiles until he stood at the lip of the bath, staring down into the water. Quietly, he removed his only item of clothing and slowly lowered himself into the water. “You know what’s weird?” he said softly, getting comfortable with his back against one of the walls of the bath. “I’ve never had a bath before in my life. Even when I was a kid, my mum used to just douse me down a bit with a wet towel. Too expensive, otherwise.”  
  
Matthew sighed, settling himself with his back resting against Dominic’s chest. “I’m honoured,” he said, his quiet voice echoing in the room. Dominic’s hands automatically found Matthew’s shoulders, massaging them as he marveled at the complete lack of walls between them both. Dominic had dreamt of it for months now, but it was suddenly too surreal to believe.  
  
“So, you have to completely submerge yourself, and then wash your hair?” Dominic asked quietly, thumbs pressing into knots of tension in Matthew’s back.  
  
“Yes,” was the whispered reply as Matthew slipping out of Dominic’s hold. With a small smile, he held his breath and sank under the surface of the water.  
  
Dominic’s eyes widened as he watched Matthew underwater. His light hair moved of its own accord around his face, his eyes open and vacant, looking at nothing in particular. A small bubble escaped his lips and for the second time in as many days, Dominic was sure that Matthew was some descendant of an angel.  
  
Matthew sat up, crashing through the surface of the water as a revelation crashed into Dominic’s consciousness: Matthew was the descendant of a cold blooded killer.  
  
And yet, he found himself pulling Matthew back into his embrace. Reaching for a shampoo bottle with his free hand, the glouglou squirted a dollop into the bright blond hair before him, placing the container back on the side and beginning to massage it into Matthew’s scalp.  
  
“Ahh,” Matthew hummed, his hands coming to rest on Dominic’s knees. “That’s... really nice,” he sighed, slipping down Matthew’s chest slightly. His eyes closed, unknown to Dominic, as he felt completely relaxed.  
  
Although, the serenity only lasted for a moment.  
  
“Um, Matthew?”  
  
“Yeah?” Dominic’s question had been asked in a small voice, so Matthew replied in kind.  
  
“Can’t male Voix get pregnant?”  
  
Matthew sat up suddenly, the water splashing up the sides of the bath. He turned around with an expression of stone on his face. “How very  _dare_  you!” he sneered, looking Dominic up and down. “As if the Bellamy bloodline would even be  _associated_  with that hideous mutation!”  
  
Dominic’s lips struggled to stay in a straight line. Matthew’s expression may have been one of pure fury, but the bubbles in his spiked, sud-filled hair begged to differ.  
  
“Are you laughing at me?  _Again?_ ” Matthew asked, although his tone wasn’t quite as distraught as before. Dominic lifted a hand to point at Matthew’s hair, said hand shaking as his shoulders bounced with silent giggles.  
  
Sighing dramatically, Matthew dunked his head underwater and shook it, ridding his hair of the suds. “Better?” he gasped as he looked at Dominic once again, the glouglou nodding. They were silent as they both scrubbed their bodies (and each other’s) with a bar of soap.  
  
“Does someone normally bring you breakfast?” Dominic asked a few minutes later, stepping out of the bath and grabbing a towel from the rack. He threw one to Matthew, wondering briefly how the staff would react to the sudden amount of laundry needing to be done.  
  
“Yes,” Matthew answered, drying himself in a hurry and wrapping the towel around his waist. “I don’t know how much time has passed, though. Stay here,” he said, opening the door to the bathroom as Dominic hid behind it, out of sight of any potential people in the bedroom.  
  
Matthew walked over to his bed and sat in a particular spot, placing his feet along two edges of a certain tile. He craned his neck upwards, the sun not quite in the frame of the atrium yet. “It’s safe, Dom,” he called, watching the glouglou emerge with a confused expression. “This is how I try to tell the time. Breakfast comes when the sun comes into view, lunch when it’s just leaving and dinner is served at just about the time I have to start lighting candles.”  
  
“Clever,” Dominic said, sitting down next to Matthew on the bed.  
  
“I am, in fact. More than you bloody glouglous give me credit for,” Matthew said with a smirk, Dominic laughing loudly.  
  
“How do they serve food, then?” Dominic asked, genuinely curious.  
  
“They, like,” Matthew’s fingers wriggled in the air as he tried to explain, “they open the door you came through, and they set a tray down but they never look into the room, and they wear the cloaks like yours... why do you ask?”  
  
“Well, you see, it’d be a bit of a flaw in my plan if they saw you alive and kicking when your corpse is meant to be in the bathtub,” Dominic explained with ease, reluctantly standing from the bed and cursing when he realised his boxers were in the bathroom. He returned a few seconds later wearing them with his robe clutched in his hand, as Matthew still rolled that sentence through his mind.  
  
“Oh,” he finally said. “Right. That would be a flaw.” A sudden, terrible thought occurred to him. “So, the entire staff of glouglous looking after me are actually intent on seeing me dead?”  
  
“Well, I doubt that  _all_  of them are in on it. But... some of them might be.”  
  
“That’s awfully reassuring.”  
  
Dominic resumed his seat beside Matthew, and it wasn’t long before their hands joined comfortably together. “How are you feeling?” Dominic asked softly.  
  
“Tired,” Matthew admitted. “And a little... sore.”  
  
“Sorry,” Dominic grimaced, pressing a kiss to the top of Matthew’s cheekbone.  
  
“Don’t apologise. It was the best night of my life.” Matthew dipped his head to rest on the glouglou’s shoulder. “Dom?” he said suddenly.  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“Were you really going to kill me?”  
  
Dominic looked away to the side for a brief second, before gently pushing Matthew away to retrieve his jeans. Matthew watched him shrug them on, restrapping the scabbard to his thigh and pulling on his shoes and socks.  
  
“Should I take your silence as a yes?” The inflection in Matthew’s voice cut sharper than any dagger of Dom’s could. The glouglou bristled, frozen still for a moment before scooping his t-shirt off the floor and putting it on. The robe was over the back of the chair from where he’d retrieved it a few moments ago, and he let Matthew stew for a few moments as he disappeared inside the billows of fabric.  
  
“It’s complicated,” Dominic said flatly, walking back towards Matthew.  
  
“Jesus, Dom, my whole sodding  _life_  is complicated!” the Voix said dramatically, falling back into his pillows with his arms in the air. “So the male glouglou I just basically  _lost my virginity to_  and admitted my love for actually wanted to kill me!”  
  
“No, Matt, it’s not--”  
  
“What did you just call me?” Matthew said, sitting bolt upright and fixing Dom with an ice cold glare. The glouglou recoiled slightly, backing towards the door. Matthew swallowed hard, pointing towards the door. “Get out of my sight.”  
  
“Matthew--”  
  
“ _Go!_ ” he shouted, and Dominic obeyed. He hammered three times at the door, and it was swiftly opened from the outside. He blinked in the lighter room, sunlight now pouring through the large windows facing St Pierre.  
  
“Did you... did you do it?” the young female glouglou whispered, excitement spread across her features.  
  
“No,” he said, the girl’s features falling. “He outsmarted me, the bastard,” he said, the sneer on the term beyond convincing. “I’ll be back in a week, with a new plan... tell only those who need to know,” he said, and with a sudden urge to be rid of the place, Dom fled through the building and back towards his home, shedding the robe in a lone set of bushes on the way.


	27. accueil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominic attempts to make things right...

It had been a while since Dominic had entered Sector Three from this direction. Granted, Scrap only lived a few doors down from his own home, but something about heading in from the Voix side of St Pierre pulled at Dom’s gut.

He remembered the note he had left Annie. He wondered if she had read it, or even if Nancy had. He wondered if she’d worked out who, exactly, he had risked his life for.

He wondered if she wanted him back in the house at all.

Sighing, he summed up every ounce of courage he had and knocked twice on the door, willing himself not to turn and run away. He could hear someone clattering about inside the house that had felt so far from home for the longest time, and then loud, frenzied shouts. “I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t go!” yelled the voice of his mother. An unbidden smile crept onto his face.

The door was wrenched open and there stood Annie, wearing a dressing gown with a towel wrapped around her head like a turban. “Sorry,” she said distractedly, “I was in the shower and-- Oh my God. Oh my _God_.” A hand flew to cover her mouth before she was enveloping Dominic in a hug that only a mother could give.

“Hi, Mum,” Dom whispered, his own arms wrapping around her and holding her as if it was the most important thing in the world.

In that moment, it was.

Until, that is, Annie stepped back and slapped him around the face.

“ _Jesus_ , Mum!” Dom screeched, clutching his cheek and bending over double.

“Don’t you _dare_ walk out on me like that again, Dominic! I sent you away for _one night_ , not two flipping weeks! I almost had a _coronary_ while you were off galavanting with Scrap and then you left the note and... oh darling, come here,” she said, all the anger out of her system. She wrapped Dominic in her arms again, her son standing much taller than her and patting her gently on the back. “Dom, I’m so glad you’re home.”

Dominic simply nodded, his cheek red and stinging but his throat choked up with emotion. “Me too,” he whispered, as Annie drew back once again. Her hands smoothed over his hair, trying to stick one lock down in place. Dominic cracked a smile.

“You look tired, love,” she cooed, cupping his face in her hands. “What’s happened?”

Dominic looked away to the side, towards the rest of the room. It’d felt like too long since he was last here, but nothing had changed. Physically, at least. “It’s a long story,” he sighed, meeting her eyes again.

“For you, I’ve got all the time in the world,” she said with a smile, leading him towards their threadbare sofa. “Go on, you sit down and I’ll make up some tea.”

“It’s really complicated,” Dom muttered in feeble protest. His heart sank in his chest as he sank into the cushions. He knew he was about to shatter Annie’s happiness, unless she had already worked it out.

She hummed out of tune as she made up two cups of tea, and brought them over to where Dominic was sitting. He thanked her quietly, slurping at the drink. It was perfect, as always.

“So,” she said, with a smug little smile on her lips. “How’s Matthew?”

Dominic choked, his eyes bugging out his head. Coughing, he managed to place his mug on the floor without spilling too much tea. “How... what...” he wheezed between coughs. “I can’t breathe,” he feebly declared, bending over double as he gasped for air. Annie’s hand was patting his back reassuringly.

Sitting up with tears in his eyes from the lack of oxygen in his lungs, Dominic exhaled loudly. He then met Annie’s eyes and all the shock went straight back through his veins. “Oh my God,” he gasped again, running a hand through his hair. “How... I just... you’re not _angry_ at me?!” he spluttered, his mother’s approval the first thing on his mind.

Annie smiled lightly to herself, placing her mug of tea on the floor also. “Dom, love,” she said, beckoning Dominic into her arms. Of course, he complied. “I’ve always had a mother’s intuition that you might not be as straight as you appear--”

“ _Mum_!”

“--but the fact that you are... in _love_ with a Voix is quite a surprise, after everything we’ve been through...” her voice was airy as she stared out of the back window into the grimy alley there. There were tiny flowers growing in the window box, the lack of sunlight stopping them from developing properly.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” Dominic said quietly, turning to put his head on her shoulder. She pulled away with a look of disgust on her face.

“If you ever, _ever_ apologise again for loving someone, then you are not my son, Dominic,” she said, her voice quivering. “I never told you about your dad, did I?”

Dominic blinked. “What about him?” he barely whispered, a good week of not even thinking about his father suddenly crashing down on him.

“Fleck wasn’t always a good man, Dom. I know you love...” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I know you loved him dearly, but he never used to be such a good father figure. He was a horrid person, before I met him. When he was young, younger than you, he used to bully glouglous that were worse off than him. He’d manipulate the system just to see how far he could bend the rules. When my mother found out I was seeing him - I was only eighteen, mind - she banned me from ever speaking to him again. I told her I was in love. She didn’t care.”

Annie wiped away a tear with her free hand, clutching Dominic closer with the other. “And I promised, on that very day, that I would never stop my children from making their own choices in life. We learn from our mistakes. I just hope you loving Matthew isn’t a mistake,” she said with a small smile.

“It’s not, Mum,” Dominic said, voice thick with unshed tears. “But... how did you find out?”

“Your note confirmed it all,” she said, and it was clear to Dominic that she was desperately trying to hold back a self-satisfied grin. “And, I suppose, before that. I knew there was something odd about you and Nancy not talking just because you’d come out to her. She’s not like that. She’s a sensible girl. So I knew it must have been more than that.” She sighed, squeezing Dominic’s hand lightly. “And then when you said in your letter that you were risking your life... well, I only had one option. Matthew.”

“He’s not as bad as you think,” Dominic said quickly. “Everyone thinks he’s a spoiled brat and... okay, well, he _is_ spoiled, and he _can_ be a brat sometimes...” he trailed off, thinking back to their last conversation with a frown. “But he’s different. He’s not like other Voix.”

Annie smiled, a tear trickling down her cheek. “Why did you fall in love with him?” she asked softly. “I mean, I know it’s... it’s difficult to explain it, even to yourself, but... you seemed so angry with him for such a long time.”

Dominic sighed, dropping his eyes from his mother’s hopeful face. He was going to have to tell her eventually. Why not now? “I had a plan,” he said, in a mousy, fearful voice. “I was going to... I was going to make him...” he faltered, unsure of what to say and with a rosy blush seeping across his cheeks. “I was going to make him want me and then I was going to ruin him so that his father would lose his son, just like I lost Dad.”

Annie’s face fell. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Well, I didn’t see that one coming.” Her lips wobbled suddenly, splitting out into a grin. “What are you? Some kind of secret agent?” She laughed, her eyes creasing at the corners. “Well, Dom, you’ll be glad to know that - having known your father so well - he’d be proud that you’d decided to out yourself and end up with Matthew Bellamy rather than trying to kill everyone you see.” She sighed, patting his head with a fond smile. “I love you, you know, you daft bugger.”

“Love you too, Mum.” Dominic grinned as she wrapped her arms around him once more.

The front door slammed loudly, heavy footsteps stomping inside the house. _Three guesses who it could be_ , Dom thought to himself with a quiet smile.

“Mum, I’m home!” Nancy yelled, movements as loud and ungainly as a baby elephant’s. “What’s for lunch? I’m starving!”

She strolled further into the room, dressed smartly in a simple, knee-length black dress with a white collar, her hair pulled up into a ponytail. Her eyes fell suddenly upon Dominic, and the expression on her face stiffened. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Hello.”

“Hey, Nancy,” Dominic said quietly.

“You’re alive, then,” she said evenly.

“Apparently so.”

She stared at him, lips turned slightly upwards. “Don’t do that to our family ever again,” she said, holding out her arms for a hug. “C’mere. I’ve missed you, little brother.”

“Nancy, we’re like... minutes apart, age-wise. You’re not my big sister.” Dominic said, though when his twin began to smile, he did too. It felt like forever since he had seen her happy, but as he stood up and allowed her to run at him as if she was competing in a sprint, an unpleasant, sickly feeling twinged in his gut. He felt her arms around him and she was laughing, but for some unidentifiable reason, he wasn’t laughing with her.

There was a quiet, sensible voice in the back of his head that was telling him there was something wrong with his sister. He didn’t know where the voice had come from - he’d never really noticed it before - but it was there, softly and calmly telling him to find out what was wrong.

Nancy pulled away from the embrace with a grin, nodding just once. “I’m going to get changed. This _stupid_ dress is suffocating me,” she announced, skipping upstairs without a care in the world.

But Dominic knew that wasn’t the case. He didn’t know how, but he knew.

“Oh, that’s right!” Annie was saying, talking to herself for all Dom was listening. “Nancy got a new job, I forgot to say. She’s working at a big house quite a way away from here. A maid, you know. Our Nancy.”

“I’ll be back in a minute, Mum,” Dominic breathed, following his twin upstairs and heading to their room. He walked slowly, trying not to make a sound as he stood next to their door and listened, holding his breath.

Silence.

Without stopping to think, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, eyes landing on Nancy immediately. She spotted him and grinned, waving. “Hey. What are you doing up here? I was just--”

“What’s wrong, Nancy?” Dom asked quietly.

Her face fell suddenly and horribly. “N-nothing,” she said, though her eyes dropped to the floor. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What... how did...” she shook her head numbly, flopping down onto the bed. “I don’t understand. How did you know?”

“I don’t know, but that’s not the point.” Dominic strode across the room and sat down beside her. “What’s up?”

“It’s Ben,” she said, and that’s when the first sob broke free from her lips. Her shoulders heaved, and she brought a hand to her face. Dom shuffled closer, cautiously hooking an arm around her shoulders. It should’ve been natural, but over the past several weeks it was something that had never happened.

When she didn’t shake it off, however, Dominic held her tight. “What did he do?” he asked, the lump in his throat telling him that he knew. He knew that Ben had hurt Nancy, and badly, but he didn’t know _why_ he suddenly knew.

“He said he didn’t want to be with me anymore,” Nancy said, tears now freely rolling down her cheeks. “We’ve been dating for two months, Dom, isn’t that good enough for him? I asked if he loved me and he said he’d think about it, and then we argued,” she whispered, sobbing again. Dominic held her close, thinking about his own love life, though he wrinkled his nose at the term. In the two or so months since Matthew’s birthday party, he’d fallen hard and fast in love. Nancy, however, his identical in every sense of the word, hadn’t been loved back.

And it pained him.

“Are you sure that he’s not just nervous or something?” he asked quietly, thumb rubbing circles into Nancy’s shoulder. She sighed, as if the weight of the world was on her back.

“He sounded so sincere,” she said, her voice drifting away at the end of the sentence. Nancy turned to Dominic then, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Dom suddenly found himself saying. Nancy recoiled slightly, giving him a trademark you’re crazy look as she raised her eyebrows. “No, I’ll do it,” he said resolutely. “It hurts me just as much as it hurts you, to see you like this.”

The truth in that statement frightened him.

Nancy sighed, nodding her head slightly. “Alright, Dom. If you want to do that, that’s fine. Just... don’t say I had any involvement in it, I know how you get,” she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips. She pushed Dominic’s back slightly, nudging him away. “Now, if you don’t mind, this dress really is uncomfortable,” she said, giggling slightly.

“Tough shit because I need to change too,” he said with a low laugh, walking over to the chest of drawers. He pulled out a clean t-shirt, turning away from Nancy to tug his old one off.

“Dom, what’s that?” she asked quietly, Dom getting tangled in his shirt as he tried to turn around. Throwing the offending garment to the floor, he faced her.

“What’s what?” he asked, totally unaware of what she was talking about.

“Those red marks on your back that look very much like fingernail scratches,” she deadpanned, Dom’s eyes widening as he hurried to look over his shoulder in the mirror. Sure enough, there was a set of angry red marks on both shoulder blades, some deep enough to have broken the skin and leave tiny scabs in their place.

“Oh, er, well... you see...” Dom said, blushing and struggling to think of an answer. One corner of Nancy’s mouth tugged up in a sad smile.

“You don’t need to make up an excuse, Dom,” she said quietly, looking away from him. He pulled his clean shirt on as a silence descended on them both. “However,” she added as he was walking towards the door to give her privacy, “that’s quite a feat, I suppose, if it was... was it...?”

“Yeah, it was,” he said as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. Nancy’s judgement could send him spiralling back into the hostility they’d only just escaped.

“Hmm,” she hummed, pulling her hair down out of the ponytail it was in. “My instinct’s telling me to congratulate you for dragging him down, but...” she paused, looking up to find Dom nodding minutely, “but I guess I should congratulate you for finding happiness.”

Dominic smiled. They were only born six minutes apart, but suddenly it seemed that Nancy had years of wisdom on him.

Standing at the door ready to leave, he looked at Nancy carefully once more. His twin was wiping away the remaining traces of her tears when she thought Dom wasn’t looking. “I love you,” he said quietly, a small smile on his lips.

Blinking, Nancy met his gaze. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard him say that, and it brought a genuine smile across her lips. “I love you too, Nicky. You’re not that bad after all,” she said, smirking.

Laughing, Dominic left the room feeling happier, and that strange new feeling at the pit of his stomach was much lighter too. He went downstairs with a slight spring in his step, and his mother smiled at him from the kitchen.

“It’s nice seeing you so happy,” she said with almost a sad tone to her voice, “but tell me, Dom.” Annie gripped his wrist, as if she was desperate to know he was still there. “Are you really, truly happy?”

“Yes,” was Dominic’s immediate answer. Annie smiled in kind.

“I’m still worried, you know. I will always worry about you,” she said, smoothing down his hair.

“I’m worried too,” Dominic admitted, eyes downcast. “I’m fucking terrified.”

“Language!” she scolded, slapping the back of his palm lightly. Their eyes met and she smiled again. “Just... be careful, Dom. Don’t do anything stu--” Sighing, Annie laughed and restarted her sentence. “Don’t do anything more stupid than what you’re already doing.”

Dominic grinned. “I won’t, Mum. Promise,” he said as she walked back towards the oven. “What’s for lunch?”

Finally, a sense of normality had returned to the 815231184 household, and Dominic couldn’t be happier.

*

Days passed but things stayed the same.

Matthew woke up. He washed. He ate. He ignored the pangs of loneliness as he lay on his bed and tried to think of nothing. The bathroom was too quiet; the bed was too empty. He missed having the feeling of someone to curl into, even if he’d only known that feeling for one night. But still, despite feeling so utterly desperate and lonely, the anger bubbled inside him, scratching at his stomach and desperate to get out.

He had trusted Dominic, laid his soul bare for a _glouglou_ to see it, and instead of being met with open trust and warmth, he was left dejected and vulnerable. For reasons unknown, Dominic had wanted to kill him. He knew that much. Matthew didn’t know when or why or where Dominic had first decided that he wanted Matthew dead. He had no idea of the situation or anything behind it. Both of them were in the dark, and so they should have stayed.

And then there had been the nickname. It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did. But as he lay in the bath on the morning of the fourth day since Dominic’s departure, the memory of the glouglou calling him _Matt_ still made his blood boil. How dare he degrade Matthew, a future Unique, and call him that in such an offhand way? Matthew’s hands curled into fists beneath the water. Dominic may have been a glouglou with the name of a Voix, but that did not give him the authority to destroy other people’s names as well. Aside from his voice, a name was all Matthew had.

He sighed, letting his head rest against the tiled wall of the bath. “And it’s all I ever _will_ have if any of this gets out,” he muttered to himself, his quiet tones echoing in the empty room.

*

The next morning, Dom woke with a smile on his face. Nancy’s side of the bed was empty, so he put two and two together and presumed she was at work. Stretching, he rolled out of bed and slowly got dressed, making his way downstairs.

“Morning, Dom,” Annie said as he reached the kitchen, immediately setting about making his breakfast. “You look chirpy this morning.”

“I’m gonna go see Ben,” he said with a small smile. Nancy had told Annie the previous afternoon that her and Ben had split, and in the way only a mother can, she’d assured her daughter that it would be alright. Dom, however, was a man, and liked to take matters into his own hands instead of simply sitting around and letting things happen.

After all, that’s how he’d been raised.

“I’m proud of you for doing that,” Annie said as she sat down at the table with a cup of tea in her hands. “You know, when you and Nancy weren’t talking... I thought I’d lost you both.” Sadness crossed her features briefly before she smiled brightly. “But we’re back together again. A family.”

Dom smiled in kind, sitting down at the table with a bowl of cereal. Annie made her excuses and went upstairs to tidy the bathroom, leaving Dom to eat in silence. He wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do when he got to Ben’s house. Threaten him until he took Nancy back? Beat him up out of revenge?

That quiet voice was in the back of his head again. They should just talk, it was saying. Dom and Ben should sit down and have a sensible conversation about it all. Dom hadn’t really seen Ben since school, anyway, so it’d be nice for them to catch up.

Hopefully.

*

The 4876034 house was two doors down from his own, so Dominic soon found himself knocking lightly at the front door with a pleasant smile on his face. He wasn’t quite sure who would open it or what he’d be faced with, but was surprised when it was Ben himself.

“Oh,” Ben said, blinking a couple of times. It slowly occurred to Dom that, of course, he did look quite similar to his sister at first glance. It also occurred to Dom that he didn’t really have any business standing at Ben’s doorstep. “Dom. It’s been a while,” Ben said with a small smile on his lips.

Ben was what Dom thought of as Nancy’s ‘typical bloke’. Lightly muscular, tanned and with a penchant for flannel shirts, he radiated an aura of strength and friendliness that Nancy seemed to latch onto. At the minute, Ben was apparently the proud owner of a scruffy little brown beard, matching his hair; the latter of which had natural red streaks in it. Dom privately thought it suited him, but said nothing of the sort directly.

“Yeah, it has,” Dom replied. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Ben said, gesturing Dom inside and still sounding quite confused about it all. His house was very similar to Dom’s own, and they sat down on a battered sofa pushed up against one of the walls of the kitchen.

Dom wrung his hands together, glancing up at Ben, who had a puzzled expression on his face. “Look,” the blond said, “I’m going to cut straight to the point. You probably know why I’m here.”

“Nancy,” Ben said. It wasn’t a sigh so much as an uttering, and the sound alone gave Dominic hope.

“I know it’s not any of my business,” he started, meeting Ben’s gaze, “but I care for Nancy more than anything in the world, you know?”

Ben knew. His little brother had been struck down with pneumonia last winter. He hadn’t made it through.

Ben and Dom both knew about the importance of family.

“I just...” Dom said, gesturing. “I’ve never seen her so upset in my life.” Dom carefully chose to omit the time when Nancy cried herself to exhaustion when she realised he was involved with a certain Voix.

“I didn’t mean to make her upset,” Ben set, expression set in a frown. That gut feeling, that quiet voice in the back of Dom’s head returned. “I just... I thought being with me was making her upset. I can’t offer her everything she deserves.”

Dom smiled wryly. “She deserves you. She deserves someone who cares for her.” As silence crept over them both, Dominic found himself biting back the words _I know you care for her_ , because what proof did he have? The expression on Ben’s face, the strange creeping feeling in his chest?

Ben looked doubtful. Screwing his nose slightly, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “I don’t know, Dom...” he said carefully, brown eyes avoiding Dom’s greys.

“Listen,” Dom said softly, “Nancy got home last night all smiles, laughing and joking. I saw her upstairs later and she was crying, Ben. Sobbing her heart out right in front of me. You broke her heart. She just wants you. She doesn’t want a prince.”

“She deserves a prince,” Ben mumbled.

“Well, fine. If you want to put it like that, then that’s fine by me, Ben. But just think about it. Remember at school, when Nancy tripped over her shoelace and fell in a puddle? And you _swapped clothes_ with her, and you wore her pair of dungarees for the whole day? Do you remember that?”

A reluctant smile made its way onto Ben’s face. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“And do you remember that time a few years back, when Fred was hitting on her down in Sector 5, and she wasn’t okay with it? You told him to fuck off and you didn’t even have the hots for her back then, you were just _friends_. Remember that?”

Ben was laughing now, “Yeah Dom, I--”

“Do you remember,” Dom said now, in a much quieter voice, “the night that my dad died? You walked Nancy home from that bloody party, and you sat with her as she cried. Do you remember?”

Ben’s smile faded slightly. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You said she deserves a prince, Ben. You know what? You are her fucking prince. You’re her knight in shining armour, or whatever the hell you want to call it. You’re always gonna be there for her, no matter what, and she needs that. She needs you.”

“I love her,” Ben said suddenly, blushing. “I really love her, Dom. I want to marry her. I want... I want her to love me too, but I’m scared to tell her.”

“I can’t tell you this completely truthfully, and this is only from what I’ve seen, but... honestly, if you tell her you love her, she won’t disappoint you.” Dom smiled, reaching over to give Ben a friendly pat on the back. “Trust me. I’m her twin. It’s like we’ve got some kind of weird mind-bond thing going on.”

Ben gave a resolute nod, taking in a long breath. “Thanks for coming over, Dom,” he said. “If there’s one thing this whole experience has taught me it’s that you’re a really good guy. Also that I should never cross Nancy ever again or she’ll probably castrate me.”

“I would too, but she gets first dibs,” Dom deadpanned, watching Ben’s face pale before he clapped him on the shoulder, guffawing as he stood up. “Oh God, I’m sorry, but your face...”

Ben stood up, chuckling sombrely as they walked towards his front door. “You don’t joke about those things, Dom,” he said warningly, though he smiled.

“You’re a good guy, Ben,” Dom said fondly, with a smile on his face. “Just as I remembered.”

Ben offered his hand and Dom shook it, before pulling him into a half hug. “Take care, Dom.”

“You too,” Dom said, stepping out of the house and walking back down the street with a smile on his face. For once, he felt like he was doing things properly.


	28. retrouvailles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited, neither Matthew nor Dominic can keep their hands to themselves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> specific warnings for this chapter of graphic violence and minimal gore, and some nasty language in both English and French. AN at the end of the chapter.

It was late. The sky was black and starless, fogged with clouds. Dominic lay awake, the curtains open, staring out into the darkness. Nancy was asleep beside him, her breaths quiet and calm, but Dom was far from sleep. His mind was racing, his pulse was racing.  
  
It was exactly a week since he’d last seen Matthew. The first three weeks of Cachant had been bearable, but now that he knew Matthew wanted him as badly as he wanted the Voix, he was struggling to cope.  
  
For the seventh time that night, Dominic found himself wishing that Nancy was at Ben’s, so he could have a desperately needed wank.  
  
Alas, the couple still weren’t talking, and so Nancy had been in their bed each and every night this week.  
  
Sighing loudly, he rolled over to face Nancy, poking her arm. “Nanners,” he mumbled.  
  
“Wha,” came the reply, muffled by her pillow. Dominic poked her again.  
  
“Nancy. I need you to talk sense into me.”  
  
With a yawn, Nancy rolled over and faced Dominic, eyes drooping and hair splayed over her face. “I can tell you to go to sleep. That seems pretty sensical,” she said with a sleepy smile.  
  
Dominic glared at her for a beat, before dropping his eyes slightly. “I’ve got this overwhelming desire to go visit Matthew.”  
  
Nancy was silent for a beat. “Was it night time, last time you got in?”  
  
Dom nodded, his profile only just visible. “It was a full moon, so it should be even easier this time.”  
  
“Mmm,” Nancy hummed, flopping onto her back. Dominic thought she’d gone to sleep again before a reply came suddenly. “Do it.”  
  
“What?” Dom asked, eyes wide. He couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.  
  
“Just go and see him,” Nancy said, a smile gracing her lips. “You love him, don’t you?”  
  
“Of course,” Dominic answered, a swell of pride warming his chest. A grin crept onto his face and Nancy returned it in kind.  
  
“Well then, you’ve answered your own question,” she said with a satisfied smile, letting her eyes close again. Dominic got out of bed, quietly going about getting dressed. As he was about to leave the room, though, he felt Nancy’s eyes on him.  
  
“Thanks,” he whispered, doing up the zip of his jacket.  
  
“It’s nothing,” she said quietly. “I just hope maybe one day, you’ll do the same thing for me.”  
  
Dominic left without a sound, but with a wide smile on his face. Nancy was none the wiser that he already had.

*

The route seemed familiar, though he’d only walked to the temples precious few times in his life. As he began to near the buildings, he stopped short and moved to the side of the wide road, disbelief and utter surprise widening his smile when he found the abandoned cloak there. He presumed that this road didn’t really see that many people, and it looked like a binbag snagged on the branches.  
  
But, to Dom, it was a golden ticket.  
  
Grinning, he pulled the cloak over his head. The thing hadn’t failed to make him feel like a pompous idiot while wearing it, but it would help him get into the temples, and for that he was thankful.  
  
The rest of the journey passed without incident, and soon he found himself standing outside Matthew’s door with a plate of snacks. He hadn’t been questioned once, not even by the glouglous that knew of his plan. Everything was going smoothly. He just hoped that Matthew had cooled off a little.  
  
And honestly, why shouldn’t he have calmed down? They both knew that things had gone wrong because of petty little problems (both Matthew’s fault, if Dom was being critical). Matthew had to have realised that, in the week Dominic had left him stewing. It was common knowledge that Matthew was hard to please, but honestly? They had just admitted that they loved each other. Matthew couldn’t still be mad.  
  
Could he?  
  
Swallowing his misgivings, Dominic pushed open the door. He was going to be calm and collected: if Matthew was going to be a child about it, then that was his choice, but Dominic definitely wasn’t going to sink to his level.  
  
As he closed the door behind him, however, he felt as if he had been slapped in the face. There was a hot, burning feeling in the pit of his stomach and the tiny little voice in the back of his head was yelling at him to ignore everything he’d told himself only a moment ago and give Matthew a piece of his mind.  
  
The Voix in question was lying in bed, facing the wall and curled up with his knees under his chin. Dominic didn’t know whether he was awake or asleep, but if he was honest, he couldn’t really care less. Stomping over to the table, he dropped the plate of biscuits onto the surface with a clatter, removing the cloak and throwing it into a corner of the room, his jacket following it. Matthew stirred.  
  
“Hey!” Dom said, and though his voice was neither quiet nor loud, it broke the silence like a gunshot. “Hey, wake up.”  
  
Matthew sniffled, letting out a tiny moan, and rolled onto his other side. His eyes were still closed.  
  
Seething, Dominic stormed over to the bed and crouched down beside it, his nose almost touching Matthew’s. “Wake the fuck up,” he snapped.  
  
“Wh--?” Matthew jerked from his slumber, eyes wide, pupils blown. “Dominic, what are you doing here?” he said coolly, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “I thought I expressly told you to get out.”  
  
“You did. Guess I just don’t like taking orders,” Dominic replied, pushing himself to his feet and staring at Matthew with unexplained anger.  
  
“You--” Matthew, his face pale, stood up, fists clenched and eyes narrowed. “How  _dare_  you speak to me like that? A Voix! A... a future  _Unique_!”  
  
“Keep talking like that and your head’ll swell. More than it already has, I mean.” Dominic, consumed with biting rage, barely even remembered his resolution to be the better person. “Who do  _you_  think  _you_  are, Matthew? I can call you that, right? Or do I have to call you by your full title,  _your highness_?”  
  
“You insolent little--”  
  
“Hey, buddy; if I’m so fucking disgusting, why the hell did you sleep with me?”  
  
He could barely even register the expression of blind fury on Matthew’s face before the Voix’s hand made contact with his cheek, forcing him to stumble sideways across the room. “Say that again,” Matthew hissed. “I fucking  _dare_  you.”  
  
Dominic, eyes watering as his cheek continued to sting violently, glanced up at Matthew with a grin. “Do you want me to?” he asked, a teasing tone to his voice despite everything.  
  
“Shut up,” Matthew snapped. “Just shut up. Stop talking right now.”  
  
“Make me,” Dominic replied quietly as Matthew neared him again, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and wrenching him close.  
  
“You make me sick,” Matthew whispered in the glouglou’s ear, his breath hot and heavy over Dominic’s skin. “ _Sick_. I can’t even look at you. The... the thought of what we did makes my skin crawl. I can’t believe I let myself get that close to you.”  
  
“You said you loved me,” Dominic shot back, pulling away from Matthew’s grip. “You told me that you _loved_  me!”  
  
“I didn’t know what I was saying!” Matthew yelled, hands tugging at his hair. “I didn’t mean it! How could I ever love  _you_?”  
  
“Hm,” Dominic raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t know. But... let me just tell you something, Matthew. When I came in here a week ago, your hair was blond, but I’m looking at you now and I swear to God it’s darker.”  
  
Matthew, who had been formulating some kind of reply, fell suddenly silent, his eyes clouding. One hand ran through his hair, but the strands weren’t long enough for him to see for himself.  
  
“And I don’t know what that means,” Dominic continued, wary of Matthew’s sudden silence, “but the only thing that changed was my being here. That’s  _it_.”  
  
There was an awful, empty quiet, during which Matthew simply stared at Dominic, his chest rising and falling slowly. And then, seemingly randomly, the Voix launched himself at Dominic, fingernails digging into any available skin he could reach. Dominic slipped, crashing to the floor and bringing Matthew with him as he tried to push the Voix off. “What the fuck?” he gasped, yelping as Matthew scraped his nails down Dominic’s cheeks. “Get off me!”  
  
“You... you don’t... you  _can’t_...” Matthew was spitting out unfinished sentences almost as if he was breathing them in and blowing them out, his hands somehow managing to twist beneath the sleeves of Dominic’s shirt and tear welts in the glouglou’s arms. “It’s not supposed to be you...” he finished softly, pulling his hands back to his chest.  
  
“Yeah, well,” Dominic was unsure of what exactly Matthew was referring to, but he didn’t care, “it  _is_  me, and there’s not much you can do about it.”  
  
“I hate you!” Matthew suddenly hurled at him, eyes black with fury. “ _I hate you_! What have you  _done_  to me? You’ve ruined me!” His fists began to pound at Dominic’s chest as angry sobs tore from his throat. “You... you... I...” He let out a sudden and wordless scream, his voice breaking as his throat began to rasp. “I want you to  _die_!”  
  
The emotions that seeped through Dominic’s body were of betrayal, of hurt, of desperation, and of sheer anger. He let the strongest of them take over, taking the howling Voix easily by the shoulders and forcibly throwing him across the room. He watched Matthew’s frail body skitter across the floor, landing in a heap of limbs right in the middle of the pyramid.  
  
“You fucking  _cunt_!” Dom shouted, scrambling along on his hands and knees to where Matthew lay face down. He grabbed his shoulder, rolling him over roughly. Before Matthew even opened his eyes, before a word managed to escape his lips, Dominic’s left fist had connected with his jaw. “You fucking  _dare_  to talk to me like that again.”  
  
Rage flared in Matthew’s eyes as he snapped his head back towards Dominic. His nose was cut and blood oozed out of the wound. He grabbed the glouglou’s lapels, slamming him down against the tile and grinning wildly at the cough sounding from the man below him. Matthew realised he was enjoying the brutality; his body was buzzing with raw, previously untapped energy.  
  
“I swear to God I’m going to kill you with my own fucking hands,” Matthew spat, his right hand closing around Dominic’s throat. The glouglou gurgled under his touch, hands pushing at Matthew’s chest with no success. “You’re going to die at my hand and that’ll fulfil your petty little prophecy, won’t it,  _connard_ ,” he hissed, Dominic gasping for breath.  
  
Suddenly, Dominic’s knee shot up, hitting Matthew squarely in the crotch. The Voix screeched in pain, releasing Dominic’s neck and curling up on the floor at his side. “ _Pute!_ ” he screamed, screwing his eyes shut with tears.  
  
Silently, Dominic got up, brushing the dust from his palms. He grabbed Matthew by his ankles, dragging his relatively limp body towards the bathroom as he gingerly stepped backwards. Feeling like a hunter collecting his prey, Dominic grimaced, watching the white of Matthew’s pyjamas slowly turn brown with dirt.  
  
It was almost too perfect.  
  
“I’m going to kill you like I should’ve two fucking months ago,” Dominic said, Matthew letting out a pitiful sob when his back scraped across the threshold, his shirt having ridden up and exposed his skin. Opening his eyes, the Voix tried to work out what was happening.  
  
But then he was underwater.  
  
His lungs flooded with water as he tried to take a breath. He thrashed about, but something was holding him down. Through the bubbles escaping his mouth and nose, he could see Dominic’s face looming above the surface of the water, pinning him down.  
  
Drowning him.  
  
A white-hot shot of anger flashed in Matthew’s veins, and he heaved Dom off of him, knocking him towards the other end of the bathtub. Matthew sat up suddenly, choking as he tried to gulp down air. He glanced at Dominic, the glouglou’s hand moving from the back of his head to in front of his face.  
  
His fingertips were covered with blood.  
  
Matthew bolted, heaving himself out of the bathtub and into the bedroom, making a beeline for the door. In effect, Dominic was an intruder, an unwanted guest, and Matthew was fearing his life. He didn’t care that Dominic had absolutely ruined said life, but he wouldn’t grant this  _cassé_  the honour of killing him.  
  
Something bulky tackled him from behind, and Matthew narrowly avoided crashing his head against the floor by slamming his palms against the tile, a paralysing spasm shooting up his forearms. He was forced onto his back, his wet clothing helping propel him across the floor slightly. Dominic was looming above him again, and Matthew spat in his face.  
  
“You are a worthless shit stain of a cunt,” Dominic whispered, wiping his face with the back of his hand.  
  
Dominic’s hands, now, were around Matthew’s throat; the glouglou was straddling the Voix’s hips and Matthew tried to use his body weight to heave Dominic off. Even in his light headed state, still breathless from nearly being drowned, he managed to recognise the flicker of indecision  
  
“Why...” Matthew gasped, delirious. His hands grappled at Dominic’s wrists, managing to loosen them for just long enough to choke out his question. “Why are you  _doing_  this?!”  
  
Dominic sneered, loosening his hold on Matthew’s throat to only resume it on his shoulders. “I don’t _know_ ,” he ground out, pushing Matthew’s shoulderblades even further into the cold tile, arms shaking with exertion. “I’m showing you who’s in charge.”  
  
The sentence, coming from a glouglou, was so bizarre that Matthew couldn’t stop himself from letting out a curt laugh. “ _Va te faire foutre_ ,” Matthew scoffed, finally rocking his hips hard enough to set Dom off balance. The glouglou fell to the side, Matthew quickly sitting astride his stomach. The glouglou gave a cough, having been winded. They were almost near the bed, within reaching distance of the bedside table. “What a  _ridiculous_  thing to hear from a  _cassé_.”  
  
“You’re so far up your own arse, it’s not even funny anymore,” Dominic wheezed, coughing again as Matthew increased the pressure on his abdomen.  
  
“You’ve destroyed my future,” Matthew said softly, though his words were ice cold. “You’ve ruined my family’s name. You’ve killed my hopes and shot my dreams to pieces. You deserve to die, you insignificant little nobody.”  
  
Dominic merely smiled, ignoring the insult as it washed over his head. Droplets of water fell from a lock of hair, blood trickling from his nose. “You’re pathetic,” he said slowly. “You fucking disgust me. I can’t believe I ever wanted you anywhere near me. I can’t believe I stuck my cock in your filthy little body.”  
  
Jaw clenched, Matthew’s hand shot towards the bedside table, grabbing something from it. Moments later, Dominic felt a searing pain on his head, his vision blurring. The tinkle of breaking glass cascading to the floor broke the silence: Matthew had smashed a beaker of water against Dominic’s head, the force of the blow shattering it to a thousand pieces. Shards sliced the skin of Matthew’s hands, peppering them with tiny little cuts, and as he yelped and pulled his hands away, he noticed Dominic’s eyes roll into the back of his head, noticed him fall limp and lifeless.  
  
Ignoring his stinging hands, he watched Dominic, almost nervously. He felt no sense of achievement, no happiness, no relief. What if Dominic was dead? What if he, Matthew, had  _killed_  him?  
  
A quiet, rasping laugh stilled Matthew’s fears and replaced them with the same violent hatred as before. “You fuck,” he snapped, striking Dominic across the face again.  
  
“Were you worried I’d died?” Dominic cooed, as blood trickled down his neck from his most recent wound. “Poor baby Matthew, terrified he’d killed the only person he trusted with the secret that the next  _Unique_  is fucking terrified of his future.”  
  
“Shut up,” Matthew snapped. “Don’t fucking kid yourself. I had a life before you. I had Adora, and my mother and father, and I had friends who respected me. Now, I have nothing.”  
  
“Well, Matthew, if you loved your precious Adora so much, what made you say that you loved  _me_?”  
  
Matthew let out a frustrated noise through clenched teeth. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he hissed. “You don’t understand me. Don’t even  _pretend_ to understand me.”  
  
“I gave up trying to understand you the second I walked into this room,” Dominic shot back quietly, their gazes connecting for a split second. “And that’s the truth of it.”  
  
Save for their haggard breaths, the room fell silent for the first time in too many minutes. In a flurry of movement, Dominic reached for Matthew’s elbows and brought him flush against his body, crashing their lips together.  
  
The Voix was still in his arms and for a moment Dominic expected him to melt, to fall against him and kiss him - really, properly kiss him - and whisper pleas for forgiveness at the corner of his mouth. Seconds passed. Matthew’s hands found his chest, twisting in his shirt, and then he pushed, hard. Their lips tore apart, leaving Dominic gasping and Matthew red-faced with anger.  
  
“What the fuck was that?” he seethed. “ _Comment oses-tu? Penses-tu que tu es_ meilleur _que moi?_ _Connard! Va te faire enculer!”_  
  
The expression on Matthew Bellamy’s face was beyond anger as his hands grabbed fistfuls of Dominic’s shirt and pulled, ripping the thin fabric open easily. He threw the mangled wads of fabric across the room, body shaking with fury.  
  
The terror on Dominic’s face was something alien to them both.  
  
“Matthew, stop, stop it... I didn’t...”  
  
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Matthew hissed. “You  _kissed_  me. You thought you could debase me like that and not expect me to retaliate? Hmm,” Matthew said, looking up at Dominic now as he shoved him roughly onto the bed. “It’s funny. Debase me and  _baise-moi_  sound quite alike.”  
  
“The fuck are you on?!” Dominic shouted, trying to scramble further along the bed but only finding himself trapped. “I didn’t  _want_  to kiss you... something... something came over me.” Matthew reached out for him again and Dominic reacted, bringing his feet up and kicking hard into Matthew’s chest, sending him toppling off the end of the bed. “Matthew, stop it!  _Stop_!”  
  
Matthew jumped back onto the bed, catching Dominic off guard and sitting astride his hips, his fingers finding their way around Dominic’s neck like they’d known it forever. They were cold from the water, and droplets were still dripping from Matthew’s hair onto Dominic’s face.  
  
Matthew whispered something, then. Dominic’s eyes screwed shut as the pressure increased on his neck, thrashing to try and throw Matthew off as his lungs burned. It wasn’t meant to his ears, but as he gasped for his final breaths, it was as clear as a bell.  
  
“I love you so much that you’re destroying me.”  
  
The glouglou attempted to gurgle out a response, scratching Matthew’s hands in an attempt to tear them from his throat. He felt his fingernails digging into the china-pale skin, drawing blood with the last of his strength. Black spots peppered his vision as he blinked through tears of fear and pain and betrayal to see Matthew’s face, strangely empty, and with hands that seemed to feel weaker with every second he reached up and touched the Voix’s cheekbone, just once.  
  
“This is for everything,” Matthew murmured, his hands tightening, the touch less than a breath of air on his skin. “This is for ruining my life.”  
  
Dominic’s hard, guttural gasps for breath slowly began to die down in volume and number, until he lay perfectly still and silent, eyes falling shut. It took Matthew a second to catch up, and when he did he snatched his hands from Dominic’s neck as if his skin was electrified.  
  
It hit him like a train, in that moment. He loved Dominic. He loved Dominic more than anything in the world, and here he was, killing him.  
  
“Dom,” Matthew whispered, hands shaking. “Dom? Dom, Dom,” Matthew whispered endlessly, crawling up the bruised and battered body below him. He poked the glouglou in the ribs, then pinched his earlobe. “Dom, please.”  
  
He thought back to only minutes earlier, when Dominic was laughing at him for thinking he was dead.  
  
He’d told him,  _don’t fucking kid yourself_.  
  
“Dom,  _please_ ,” Matthew croaked, pressing his ear against Dom’s chest. He could feel a rise and fall as air rushed to and from Dominic’s lungs, and there was the heavy, slow heartbeat. Yet, no response.  
  
Matthew sat up again, looking at Dom’s face. It was covered with tiny cuts, there were scratches on each cheek, his left eye was beginning to swell shut and Matthew gasped, realising that it wasn’t simply shadows on his ruffled bed sheets; Dominic’s blood was soaking into them, leaving dark patches in its wake.  
  
“Dom,” Matthew sobbed, brushing his lips against the glouglou’s. “Wake the hell up, for  _fuck’s_ sake. It’s not funny. Stop it.”  
  
Nothing.  _Silence._  
  
“Please wake up,” Matthew whispered, tears falling down his cheeks as he pressed a soft, light kiss to Dominic’s lips. “ _Please_. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just so angry and I...” he took in a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, letting tears fall onto Dominic’s bare chest. “I love you,” he mumbled. “I love you, Dom, so you can wake up now, ’cause I love you.”  
  
Dominic’s only response was to breathe.  
  
Matthew, chest rising and falling rapidly with panicked breaths, placed his feet on the floor. He began to run, skidding into the bathroom and narrowly avoiding the puddles from their earlier struggling. His hands fell upon a large bowl, which he quickly filled with cold water. On his way back towards the bed, he stooped to grab the remnants of Dominic’s shirt. Quietly, and with a certain sense of reverence, he pulled the blanket up to Dominic’s waist and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, dipping the fabric into the water and pressing it lightly against a cut on Dominic’s shoulder.  
  
The glouglou jerked slightly as the cold fabric touched his skin, his eyelids flickering and prising apart. “What--?”  
  
“Shh.” Matthew, eyes down, was dabbing cool water over Dominic’s heated skin, washing away the blood.  
  
“What are you doing?” Dominic asked. His voice was thick and croaky, and the scarlet imprint on his neck was quickly bruising. “Don’t touch me,” he said, batting Matthew’s hand away. “Don’t. Don’t  _touch_ me.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Matthew mumbled. “I’m not mad anymore.”  
  
“ _I_  am.”  
  
Matthew swallowed, glancing up at Dominic. His cheeks reddened. “Please don’t be,” he said, hand tightening around the fabric. A few drops landed on Dominic’s forehead and trickled slowly onto the pillow. “Please, Dom, I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t love me any more.”  
  
“You tried to kill me,” Dominic croaked. “You choked me.”  
  
“I...” Matthew sniffed, wiping at his eyes. Fat tears began to dribble down his cheeks, and he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He looked like a child. “Please, Dom, I was just so  _angry_. You... you passed out or something and I was so scared that you’d died, that I’d killed you...” Matthew soaked the fabric again and wrung it out a little.  
  
A long, silent pause followed his words. Dominic looked at him, and Matthew felt his heart begin to thrum with fear, apprehension, guilt. Every feeling twisted in his gut and forced the tears over his eyelids, rolling pathetically over his cheeks and dripping from the end of his nose. He inched further up the bed, eyes finally making contact with Dominic’s as he touched the fabric to a particularly nasty gash on the crown of the glouglou’s head, the result of their bathroom scuffle. He held his breath.  
  
“‘S cold,” Dominic said eventually, and if it wasn’t forgiveness in his voice it was something very close. His eyes fell shut again.  
  
“Dom, are you awake? Because if you’ve passed out again, I’m--”  
  
Eyes still closed, Dominic smiled softly. “I’m still awake. Just resting.”  
  
Their conversation stilled to a comfortable silence, Matthew dousing Dominic’s wounds while the glouglou lay still. It was strange to think that only a few moments before, Matthew had actually entertained the thought of ending Dominic’s life.  _His_  Dominic.  
  
“I love you,” Matthew said, his voice barely perceptible as he laid the fabric over the lip of the bowl and placed it on the bedside table. “I promise you right now that I will never, ever hurt you again as long as I live.”  
  
“C’mere.” Dominic’s eyes opened again as he shifted along on the bed, Matthew gladly crawling under the blanket beside him and resting his head on the glouglou’s chest. “I love you too,” he said, pressing a kiss to Matthew’s head, “even if it is probably bad for my health.”  
  
Matthew allowed himself to giggle, something akin to happiness tingling in his fingertips as Dominic’s arm wrapped around him. He exhaled, the tension of the last hour finally mounting up, his eyelids drooping until he fell asleep in Dominic’s embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Another thank you for sticking with us so far. We don't believe in writing unnecessary violence but this was pretty necessary as you can tell and builds up to a major, _major_ plot point in the next chapter. This is a revised edition: the original was a lot more graphic and slightly sexual - we felt very awkward about it so we changed it.


	29. exaucé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The difference between life and death...

Matthew woke in an empty bed.  
  
He wasn’t aware of it at first. He curled onto his side; he rolled onto his back; he threw his limbs every which way, comfortable with the feeling of the soft, dark cotton against his skin. It was the first day in a week that he hadn’t woken up bitter and foul-mouthed and angry at the world. The reason for this sudden contentment escaped him for the moment, but he didn’t particularly mind.  
  
He sat up, his blond hair a disordered mess about his head, and stretched his arms. His entire body felt tired and weak and he didn’t know why. His throat was sore: it hurt whenever he swallowed, and--  
  
 _Dominic_.  
  
Matthew, suddenly alert, swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up carefully. Panic washed over him in horrific waves. Dominic had left him without saying goodbye, and now he was alone again. Tears threatened to spill over his cheeks as he sat down heavily on the bed, head in his hands.  
  
The door to the bathroom creaked open suddenly. Matthew’s head shot up, tears sparkling in his eyes as he watched Dominic (presumably unaware of Matthew’s conscious state) creep quietly across the room, clad in naught but a pair of boxers and holding a towel.  
  
Matthew cleared his throat.  
  
“Fuck!” Dominic yelped, eyes wide. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, visibly calmer. Though he was still holding the towel as if about to launch it across the room. “ _Jesus_ , you scared me.”  
  
Matthew let out a quiet giggle. “Sorry,” he said, pressing his lips to a flat line. “I thought you’d left me,” he explained with a pout, arms folded across his chest.  
  
Relaxing his grip on the towel, Dominic strolled across the room and sat down beside Matthew, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You have absolutely no faith in me at all, do you?”  
  
“No, I just...” Matthew sighed, leaning into Dominic’s embrace. “I thought you’d still be mad at me,” he said in a mousy voice. “I mean, I don’t know... I don’t know what came over me last night. You have no idea how sorry I am. I’m so sorry, Dominic, please believe me. I--”  
  
“Shush,” Dominic said gently. “I believe you. I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I...” he grinned sheepishly. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you.”  
  
“Several times,” Matthew added.  
  
“Several times.” Dominic gave a resolute nod. “But now we’ve got over that, we’re stronger than ever. Or words to that effect.”  
  
He fell into a thoughtful silence, staring at Matthew with a frown. The Voix stared back at Dominic, taking in the scars, scrapes and bruises that littered his skin like stars in the sky. A pang of guilt settled in his stomach: despite the fact that he had apologised profusely for what he had done, the horror of almost killing the person he loved was still fresh and raw in his head and for some reason it just wouldn’t leave him be.  
  
Matthew surveyed the room, Dom sitting before him. There was dried blood on the tiles, smashed glass next to the bed and the sheets were crusted with blood, too. He was sure that the bathroom would be a state, but he struggled to bring himself to care, because in that moment Dominic wasn’t angry with him.  
  
“Do I have something on my face?” Matthew asked softly, beginning to feel a little uneasy under Dominic’s gaze.  
  
“No,” Dominic said slowly, “and that’s just it. I’m pretty sure I beat the shit out of you last night but there’s not a scratch on you.”  
  
Matthew grinned, prodding the glouglou lightly in the side. “Voix aren’t like glouglous. We’re a different species,” he explained with a shrug. “Weren’t you taught all about this in school?”  
  
“I’m going to be brutally honest here and say that I never really listened in school as soon as they started waffling on about Voix supremacy. Which was all the time. So, I may have been taught it, but I’m fucked if I paid attention.” Dominic sighed, shrugging. “I regret it now, though.”  
  
“Well, fine then,” Matthew glanced at him, smirking. “I’ll teach you all about it.”  
  
“I’m all ears.”  
  
“Hm.” Matthew nodded, craning his neck to nibble at the shell of Dominic’s ear. “More so than you think.”  
  
“Oi,” Dom said, recoiling with a smile on his face. “My ears are my best feature, leave off.”  
  
Matthew quirked an eyebrow, glanced dramatically up and down Dom’s naked torso and shrugged. “If that’s what you think, fine,” he said, a crooked smile threatening to spread across his face. “Anyway, Voix wounds heal incredibly quickly. You know that time you beat up Lysander Fletcher? At least, I presume it was you.”  
  
“You found out?” Dom gasped, his face paling.  
  
“Kind of helps to explain last night, to be fair,” Matthew said, shrugging again. “Anyway, I saw him later that night and the wounds were practically healed. He would’ve had a limp and a wheezy chest the next day but that’s it.”  
  
Dominic raised his eyebrows, then he blinked in realisation. “So... it’s impossible to kill a Voix? My efforts last night were wasted?” He sounded hurt.  
  
Matthew let out a dark chuckle, shuffling closer to Dom. “Not quite. We can be killed by asphyxiation... you know, lack of air,” he elaborated when he saw Dominic’s confused expression. “Something evolved from destroying vocal cords, I don’t know really. But that’s why I was particularly anxious when you kept trying to choke and drown me. I thought you knew.”  
  
Dominic frowned, drumming his fingers against Matthew’s thigh as he thought. “So... if I’d tried with the dagger last time...” he started, unable to voice the thoughts that made him feel somewhat nauseous.  
  
Matthew bit his lip, pausing before he replied. “I would’ve been in immense pain, but unable to die. Even if it was lodged in my lung. I would’ve begged you to suffocate me.” He paused, Dominic swallowing hard. “Unless!” Matthew suddenly said in a bright tone, “you managed to successfully cut off my air supply. Sliced throat or something.”  
  
“Charming,” Dom deadpanned. “What a wonderful image, there.”  
  
Giggling, Matthew laid his head on Dom’s shoulder as the tense air dissipated around them.  
  
“ _Je t’aime_ ,” Matthew said softly. “ _En ta beauté gît ma mort et ma vie_.”  
  
Dominic blinked. “So that might have been the most romantic sentence in the history of sentences and also romance, but I have no  _idea_  what the last part meant.”  
  
“Way to ruin the mood,” Matthew said, the scowl on his face lasting a split second before he was smiling again. He giggled, tilting his head to the side. “I’m just curious, but how much French  _do_  you know?”  
  
“Enough,” Dom whispered, his voice low, inching his face towards Matthew’s. Dom pressed his lips ever so gently against Matthew’s, the very ghost of a kiss before he pulled back. “But what does it mean?”  
  
Matthew blushed fiercely, moving his head away from Dom’s. “Nothing,” he said, looking away. “It was a silly little nothing,” he lied.  
  
Playfully, Dominic pinned Matthew down on the bed, straddling the Voix’s hips. “Tell me,” he laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of Matthew’s jaw. “I wanna know. What if it was something important?”  
  
“Like what?” Matthew bit back, squirming slightly.  
  
“Like the location to some secret underground Voix-party that you’re invited to but I’m not.”  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Matthew said. “But I love you for it.”  
  
“I’m an idiot? Fine then, Bellamy, you’re a sentimental fool.” Dominic brushed his nose lightly against Matthew’s, relaxing against him slightly, and it was then that Matthew noticed a now-familiar pressure against his hipbone.  
  
“ _I’m_ a sentimental fool?” he asked, rolling his hips up slightly. Dominic let out a lungful of air he hadn’t realised he was holding in. “ _I’m_  the fool?” Matthew said, trying to justify it. “Right, okay. Well, if I  _was_ a fool then I’d tell you to get off and go deal with that little problem in your boxers all by yourself.”  
  
Dominic scowled. Matthew beamed.  
  
“Guess I’m not a fool anymore,” Matthew said smugly. “I’m not the one who gets hard every time you look at me.”  
  
“You have sexy... uh, sexy eyes,” Dominic protested weakly as Matthew’s lips pressed to his neck, peppering his tanned skin with kisses as if they were raindrops. “Fuck, Matt, you’re--” he broke off suddenly, wincing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, I’m sorry. It just came out. Sorry. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to say that,” he babbled, the tips of his ears red as he winced. Last time he had called Matthew  _Matt_ , the Voix had kicked him out of the room and stewed in his own anger for a week.  
  
“Say what?” Matthew asked breathlessly as he wrapped his legs around Dominic’s waist, grinding upwards.  
  
“I, uh... Nothing. Never mind.” Dominic shook his head, a barely concealed smile at his lips as Matthew resumed the light kisses to his neck and collarbone.  
  
“I want you to make love to me again,” Matthew whispered by Dominic’s ear, kisses now moving upwards to the glouglou’s jaw. “Please.”  
  
“Mm, I like the sound of that,” Dominic breathed, joining their lips with gentle pressure and rolling his hips down to meet Matthew’s. He pulled back, grey eyes surveying Matthew, who was lying perfectly still, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. “Matthew,” he said softly, watching the Voix’s eyes reluctantly peel open.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Promise me that we’ll never, ever fight like that again.”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
“Promise me we’re stronger because of this.”  
  
Matthew gave a sad little smile, kissing the corner of the glouglou’s mouth. “I promise,” he said. “Now promise me something.”  
  
“Anything.” Dominic smiled, nudging their noses together gently. A warm, soft feeling swelled in his stomach, spreading through his body and leaving him feeling comfortable and warm and safe and, above all, happy. The voice in the back of his head was calm and quiet, and Dominic had to strain himself to hear it, but it was telling him, with a certain sense of authority, that Matthew felt the same as he did in that moment.  
  
“Promise me you’ll stay by my side no matter what.”  
  
“No matter what,” Dominic agreed with a nod. “Now, was it just me, or were you still showering me with sweet nothings?”  
  
Matthew grinned impishly, eyes flooded with lust as Dominic carefully kissed his neck, each press deep and meaningful. “I’m not telling... what I said,” Matthew gasped, as Dominic’s fingers curled in his hair.  
  
“You’ll tell me,” Dominic smirked, pressing a kiss to Matthew’s nose before sitting up straight. He shuffled down Matthew’s body, kneeling between two pale legs and slowly pulling Matthew’s boxers down them. Dominic heard whimpering, realising the sounds were escaping from Matthew’s lips.  
  
Instantly, the Voix took himself in hand, tugging at his flesh as his whimpering turned into long drawn out moans. Dominic sat back on his heels, whistling a long, low note of admiration.  
  
“You know,” he said, going completely unnoticed. “I might just sit and watch you do this.”  
  
A few seconds later, Matthew’s eyes flickered open and a blush crept right across his face, following a timid smile. “Er,” he muttered, releasing his now-hard cock and tucking his hands under his bum. “Sorry about that. I just... I’m still worked up from last night. Not like  _that_  but...”  
  
Wordlessly, Dominic reached for Matthew’s hidden wrist and pulled it towards his crotch again, his actions speaking far louder than any words could. Eyes locked, Matthew’s fingers slowly began to drift up and down his length once more, as Dominic’s hands explored the soft skin of Matthew’s inner thighs.  
  
“Dom, please,” Matthew whispered, his voice strained. Dominic watched the tendons dance in Matthew’s neck as his head fell back against the pillows. “I won’t last long.”  
  
“Right,” Dom said, hopping off the bed and towards where his clothes lay abandoned on the floor.  
  
“Doesn’t mean I don’t need your help!” Matthew shrieked desperately, his ministrations stopping in the panic.  
  
“Relax,” Dominic grinned, bending down to rifle in the pocket of his jeans and producing a small tube. “I came prepared this time.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Matthew was getting impatient: Dominic could tell by the taut coldness to his voice. Stretching back into a standing position, he strolled back over to the bed, wiggling the tube at Matthew. “What’s that?” the Voix asked, nervous.  
  
“‘S lube,” Dominic replied with a shrug, glancing up at Matthew to see him staring, eyes lidded and lips slightly parted. “You have no idea what it is, do you?”  
  
Matthew shook his head. “Nu-uh,” he said, unable to tear his eyes away as Dominic popped the cap of it, the glouglou pushing his boxers down his legs before kicking them aside. “Is it some kind of weapon?”  
  
Dominic gave Matthew a stern look before squirting a dollop of lube onto his own fingers. “Lube,” he said, meeting Matthew’s eyes. “Lubrication,” he repeated with a touch of exasperation in his voice. “It works better than saliva.”  
  
“Oh,” Matthew said, lying back down on the pillows. “Right. I--  _oh!_ ” Matthew sighed, as Dominic’s slick fingers pressed against him. “It’s a bit cold,” he giggled, before it subsided into another moan.  
  
“You won’t be thinking that in a few seconds,” Dominic said, a smile spreading across his lips as Matthew lazily stretched his arms above his head.  
  
“What do you--  _oh!_ ” Matthew whined as Dominic’s index finger slipped inside him easily. “Oh, that’s... different,” Matthew commented, pulling a face at the strange sensation of the lube inside him. “It’s really cold.”  
  
“Stop moaning,” Dominic laughed, leaning down for a kiss.  
  
“Do you really want me to?” Matthew breathed, quirking an eyebrow before their lips touched and he let out a deep, throaty moan.  
  
“No,” Dominic mumbled into the kiss, their lips parting with a wet smack. “I want you to be on top, though.”  
  
“Hmm?” Matthew hummed, tilting his head back as Dominic’s lips brushed his chin, and then his neck. He gasped as Dominic added a second finger, biting his lip as he curled the bedsheets into his fist. The sound he made was a high note, descending into a lovely sigh.  
  
“I need...” Dominic began, his chain of thought becoming disrupted as he watched Matthew unravel beneath him. “No, not like this.”  
  
Matthew whined as Dominic withdrew his fingers, before strong hands clamped on his hips and shifted him on the bed. Dominic laid down in the warm groove Matthew’s body had left him, before lifting Matthew to sit astride his hips.  
  
“Oh,” Matthew said quietly, running his hands over Dominic’s chest as if he was born to do so. “This is different.” He shifted his hips slightly, their cocks brushing together and Dominic hissing at the contact. “I can see all of you,” Matthew continued murmuring, long fingers brushing over the peaks of Dominic’s darkened nipples. The glouglou’s head fell back against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed.  
  
“Don’t stop,” Dominic whispered as Matthew’s fingers continued their exploration. Every nerve in Dominic’s torso felt electrified as the Voix’s spidery touch sent shivers bouncing across his taut skin. Matthew smiled to himself as Dominic’s abdominal muscles danced when he played them each in turn.  
  
Dominic had felt his touch going south, but his eyes flew open when Matthew’s hand wrapped surely around his cock. With confident strokes, he watched himself be worked by Matthew’s fist, prominent veins in his hand and forearm putting on a mesmerising show as they moved under his pale skin. The sound of Matthew’s quiet breathing and the visual stimuli before him was wearing down on his self control.  
  
“Matthew... Jesus  _Christ_ ,” Dominic gasped, his breath taken away as Matthew looked up through his bright blond fringe at him, blue eyes piercing. “Oh fuck, I need...”  
  
“What do you need?” Matthew asked quietly, his angelic voice dripping with innocence. The barest hint of a smirk lingered on his lips, his question punctuated with the sinful sound of skin on skin.  
  
Dominic took a shuddering breath. “I need you to ride me into this mattress and make me forget my own name. I need you to make me come so hard I see stars. I need you to... to...”  
  
Matthew reached for the tube of lube, squirting his hand liberally and immediately resuming working on Dominic’s cock. “Go on?” Matthew teased, and Dominic bit his lip at the husk in Matthew’s voice. With heavy lidded eyes, their gazes met.  
  
“I need you to ride me like a glouglou, but make me feel like a Voix.”  
  
Matthew gasped, jaw hanging slack as he processed Dominic’s words fully. His movements came to a stop as Dominic’s hands found his hips, bringing him closer on the bed and pulling him upwards. Dominic watched the muscle in Matthew’s thighs tense as he held himself up on the bed, one hand daintily pressing against the light sheen of sweat on Dominic’s chest.  
  
“You think you can do that?” Dominic whispered, Matthew’s face tilted low and close. The Voix quirked an eyebrow at him, that smirk spreading across his face again as Dominic reached forward, positioning himself against Matthew’s entrance.  
  
He took Matthew’s desperate whine as a yes.  
  
Dominic pushed upwards slightly as he guided Matthew down, watching his thighs tremble and facial features morph through surprise to pain to a mixture of the both. As soon as Matthew was low enough to almost sit astride Dominic’s hips, he bucked upwards.  
  
“Fuck!” he shouted, throat already sounding hoarse. An after-effect of last night, Dominic supposed.  
  
The dark, lustful look in Matthew’s eyes was a much more pleasant after-effect, though.  
  
Weight tipped forward, Matthew’s hands were steady against Dominic’s heartbeat as he rolled his hips again. Dominic didn’t dare look anywhere but Matthew’s eyes, the bright blue swallowing him whole and threatening to never return him to the world he came from.  
  
And as long as Matthew continued moving as sensuously as he was, he didn’t particularly care.  
  
“You look like sin with dark roots,” Dominic murmured, calloused fingers tracing over Matthew’s ribs, thumbs brushing his abs as he guided Matthew in rolling motions, his own hips snapping up to meet him in the middle. Matthew gasped, leaning back so his spine was straight and his whole torso was on show for Dominic’s eyes only. He rolled his head back before meeting Dominic’s gaze once more.  
  
“Just wait until I’m a Unique then,” Matthew laughed darkly, voice low and thick.  
  
“Oh,  _fuck_ ,” Dominic whispered, hips involuntarily snapping up harder than he’d meant to, heels digging into the bed. Matthew screamed, immediately falling forward again with his hands flat on the mattress. He shifted his weight onto his left hand, his right reaching for his cock, overlooked until now.  
  
“I’m so...  _putain de merde! C’est... je suis..._  close,” Matthew stuttered, a shriek erupting from his lips with each deep thrust Dominic’s hips delivered, his body shaking and gasping every time. Dominic’s hands fisted in Matthew’s hair, looking even darker now it was drenched in sweat. The room was warm and stuffy, and their bodies slid easily against each other. Their kisses were sloppy and frantic, Dominic’s hips losing their rhythm as he suddenly gripped Matthew’s hips, holding him still as he drove into him relentlessly, again and again.  
  
Matthew’s fingernails scratched long welts down Dominic’s chest as he sang, abandoning his cock in favour of supporting himself against the chest below him. Three loud and long notes of falsetto later and Matthew came, two thick streaks landing on Dominic’s lower abdomen as the glouglou spilled inside of him with a quiet gasp. Matthew could feel the grey eyes on his body as his chest heaved, exhaustion spilling over him in a wave.  
  
All of the tension from the last week, and especially the evening before, rushed out of them both, and Dominic felt the tempest of their evening leave his body. Matthew fell against him, Dominic wrapping him in an embrace and running his hands up and down his sweaty back.  
  
“I love you,” he whispered, and Matthew grinned.  
  
“I love you too,” he breathed, his smile infectious. Dominic laughed, hands moving to play in Matthew’s hair. “That was... just... I don’t think I know a word in either language to describe that.”  
  
“I didn’t realise you had it in you,” Dominic chuckled. “You were like... an  _animal_.” Matthew ducked his head coyly. “And now you’re blushing!” the glouglou added, a tinge of aspiration in his voice. He let out a long, shaky sigh, holding Matthew closer and not quite sober enough to care that they hadn’t yet moved, or that come was drying between their bodies. He was happy, and he had a niggling suspicion that Matthew was equally as content.  
  
Matthew hummed a tune that ran up and down an octave, eyes closed and a sleepy smile spread across his face as he nuzzled into Dominic’s chest. Dominic ran a hand through Matthew’s darkening hair, as his eyelids flickered open and their gazes met.  
  
“You could be the one I always love,” he sung lowly, before closing his eyes once more, still smiling.


	30. commencement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on for Dominic until The Big Day arrives...

Aching and sore, Dominic heaved himself up from the bed, careful to avoid Matthew’s sleeping form. The Voix evidently hadn’t slept well last night, too plagued by worries that he’d damaged Dominic beyond repair. Brushing his hand through Matthew’s sweat-soaked hair (which was definitely looking darker at the roots), the glouglou started to collect his clothes, leaving his ripped shirt and simply putting the cloak on over his jeans and bare torso instead.  
  
Casting one last look around the room, Dominic quietly left. He wasn’t sure if he would return, but he was sure Matthew would understand.  
  
This time, he wasn’t confronted by any other glouglous as he left the temple, determined to make his way straight home. He couldn’t risk shedding the cloak, especially as it was an unwritten rule that any form of nudity in public was punishable, so he distracted himself by thinking of excuses for Annie, his eyes glued to the floor.  
  
Hence why he didn’t see the six feet of Voix crashing into him.  
  
“Oi, watch it lad!” a very distinct voice called, and Dominic had to look up, his hood covering his hair but letting Lysander see his injuries. “What do you think y-- Dom’nic?”  
  
Dominic cast his eyes down to the floor, shuffling where he stood slightly. His limbs still burned from last night and he could do with one or six of his mother’s homemade remedies.  
  
“I didn’t know ya worked up them temples, thought that was for  _cassé_ s with good behaviour an’ all that malarkey,” Lysander sneered, stooping slightly to look at Dominic’s injuries. “I’m not surprised someone beat ya up, to be honest. You’re a lil’  _merde_  and serves ya right for tossin’ me onto the cobbles and beating me dry. Did ‘e get ya in the back of ya loaf like you did me, because--”  
  
Lysander yanked down Dominic’s hood, and the glouglou was exposed entirely to the mid-morning sun. Though his left eye was almost swollen shut, Dominic wasn’t mistaking the look of absolute shock on Lysander’s face.  
  
“What have you  _done_ ,” Lysander gasped, jerking Dominic out of the main road and down a side alley, drawing him into the shade.  
  
“I don’t-- what?”  
  
“Your hair’s the bloody colour of the Prince of Persia’s gold, boy! This only happens one way and it don’t end pretty for ya, I tell ya.”  
  
“Sir, if I may, I have no idea--”  
  
“You’ve boinked Adora, ain’t ya?” Lysander said, still keeping a good foot or so from Dominic. The glouglou became incredibly self-conscious, drawing his hood up over his head again. His eyes bugged out of his head, and Lysander mistook his shock for confusion.  
  
“Ya know, hiding the sausage, a quick leg-over, a lil’ bit of the old in an’ out?” Lysander elaborated with a quick grin, that he soon wiped off his face. “You know, Adora will get punished but you, mate, will--”  
  
“It wasn’t Adora,” Dominic said, locking eyes with Lysander and feeling time freeze around them. Lysander’s expression was dark, and adrenaline surged through the glouglou’s veins, ready for fight or flight.  
  
“Fuck,” Lysander uttered, falling back against the opposite grimy wall of the alley. “It wouldn’t be ‘alf as bad if you was in love with Adora, but with our Matthew? Christ alive,” Lysander muttered, looking out to the main street.  
  
“How do you know about the consummating love thing?” Dominic asked, his voice indifferent.  
  
“Please, I was a Unique myself once, y’know.”  
  
Dominic quirked an eyebrow, biting his tongue to keep from voicing his complete disbelief in the man that was essentially a fallen angel from the Voix society that was Heaven. He settled on asking another question himself.  
  
“No, but... you knew, just by looking at me. How?”  
  
Lysander nodded, pausing for a few moments to formulate his answer. When he spoke, his voice was deep and, for the first time that day, incredibly sincere. “You hair is a lot lighter than it was, boy. A  _lot_ lighter, as in... a few more shades and it’s borderin’ on the darkest of Voix. Honest,” he added after a beat. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen after simply doin’ the dirty with a Voix, otherwise half of the girls down here in Sectors 1, 2 an’ 3 would be running around with bright yellow ‘air.”  
  
Dominic winced, but nodded in understanding. Lysander continued. “So, it’s obvious you an’ Matthew are head over heels for one another, righto, I get that. You’re lookin’ paler too, but that might be that beatin’. But, your ‘air, it shouldn’t be  _that_  light already...” Lysander paused, looking towards the clear blue sky for some sort of inspiration. “This has been happnin’ a while, ain’t it? Is Matthew’s hair darker?”  
  
Dominic nodded, not trusting his voice. He was still trying to process all this new information.  
  
“Bloody hell,” Lysander cursed, kicking at a stone. “You’re going to cause a storm at the unveiling, I tell ya.”  
  
“But Matthew’s in love with Adora,” Dominic said, sounding far too innocent for his age. “They’ve had sex, so her hair will be turning dark too, right?”  
  
Lysander fixed him with a pointed stare, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “If you say so. Now, you better hurry home and pray your darlin’ mother don’t ask what you’ve been up to.”  
  
The Voix turned to exit the alleyway, Dominic shouting him down. “Wait!” he said, Lysander turning around with an unknown emotion in his eyes. “How do you know so much about all this?”  
  
“I wish I didn’t,” he replied simply, disappearing out into the main street and parting the crowds with his mere presence.

*

Dominic spent the next couple of weeks treading on eggshells. He lost count of the days, spending them tucked away around the house. Things passed him by, even important things that he normally would’ve invested himself in. A friend had given their mother a cookbook, which she had been delighted with. Nancy had reunited with Ben, both admitting that they loved each other and his twin proceeding to practically bounce around the house constantly.  
  
Dominic found himself writing songs more advanced and more lyrically deep than he ever had ever attempted before, connecting with music now on an almost ethereal level. He didn’t have a piano or a voice to use, and he almost went mad trying to use the voice in his mind to create melodies.  
  
Staves were created from the edges of  _Le Monde_ , from blank pages in Nancy’s romance novels, from scraps of kitchen towel his mother let him use. He broke down crying when his favourite pen ran out. Annie always brought him tea but they had almost stopped communicating beyond that; Dominic was lost in his own world, fearing for his life.  
  
Did the outside world know about him and Matthew? Not yet, judging from the newspaper, but then he wondered if their relationship had been subjected to an elaborate cover up. Had Agostino sneaked into Matthew’s temple night, killing his own son as Dominic himself had sworn to do all those months ago? The glouglou had no idea, so he locked himself away from society until the day when it would be absolutely necessary to emerge.  
  
That day came.  
  
Dévoilement.  
  
Dominic had to wear a shirt and tie, one that wrapped around his neck like a noose. His hair had dulled slightly, not enough to revert to its original dirty blond but enough for him not to be called out on it. His mother and sister dressed themselves in their finest skirts and blouses, Annie standing at the door trying to stick down a tuft of hair on Dominic’s head.  
  
“I feel sick,” he muttered, and Annie simply nodded. She couldn’t begin to comprehend what her son was going through, even though she was wearing the exact dress she wore when her own husband was killed.  
  
Dominic’s legs felt like lumps of concrete as they walked towards the temples, glouglous in their thousands flocking to the site. Some of the children were running around singing, this being their first Dévoilement and the whole idea of Cachant being terribly thrilling. Other glouglous were exchanging grumbles and gossip about the Uniques.  
  
Somehow, their supposed secrets didn’t impress Dominic in the slightest.  
  
After what felt like an eternity, the crowd was pushed through the golden gates into the larger compound. Most of the glouglou population couldn’t fit through the gates, but Dominic and his family were let through by others, recognised as Matthew’s songwriter. He pretended it was out of respect for his father, who had made this trip many times in his life.  
  
Fleck, though, had probably never felt as nervous as Dominic did in that moment.  
  
Dominic cast an eye over all the Voix with all their blond hair and pale skin, fenced off from the glouglous and dressed in rich finery; pastel blues, pinks and yellows. All too soon, Paix and Joie took to the stage, explaining that it was with pride and honour the Uniques would step up to their role, the first actual couple in decades.  
  
And, for a fleeting moment, Dominic wished for them to be a couple. He wanted Matthew and Adora to pull down their hoods with dark hair, to smile and embrace and bow to the crowds. To have children and marry, to perform across the globe. To eventually be the Anciens, ruling over the world that Dominic, his future wife and future children would inhabit, still in poverty but happy.  
  
That fleeting moment was gone. Dominic knew he wouldn’t be happy without Matthew, and when he appeared on stage, his figure shrouded in a flowing white robe, Dominic tried his hardest not to smile. The sickness in his stomach subsided, replaced by a fluttering of butterflies.  
  
Matthew and Adora smiled at each other as they met in the middle of the stage, Paix and Joie applauding from their seats above the crowd to Dominic’s right. Distinct cheering came from all around him, but Annie, Nancy and Ben remained silent.  
  
“And now,” Joie said, an invisible microphone projecting her voice across the compound, “it is my great pleasure to announce St Pierre’s new Uniques, Adora Constantine and Matthew Bellamy!”  
  
Matthew and Adora nodded to each other slightly, shifting closer together. A knife of jealousy sliced through Dominic’s stomach, the crowd cooing as they looked like they would kiss. Instead, they reached towards each other and lowered one another’s hoods.  
  
Dominic had never heard absolute silence before, nor had most of St Pierre. For a community that prided itself on song and music, a silence as profound as this was different. Unbelieveable.  
  
Unique.  
  
It was broken by three distinct sounds, each chasing each other as they echoed around the compound. One was the thud of someone falling to the floor, and out of the corner of their eyes the crowd observed their matriarch Joie fainting.  
  
The second and third noises came from the stage, and they were simultaneous. Adora had let out a peel of delighted giggles, and Matthew had simply whispered one word.  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
Some bright spark had had the incredible idea to put a microphone on stage. As Matthew started repeating his denial to himself, Adora turned towards the audience, frantically searching the shocked faces of the Voix assembled below for an answer.  
  
“What...” she whispered, a half formed question falling from her lips. A glouglou rushed out onto the stage with a pair of handheld mirrors, but Adora was faster. She ripped out the pins that were holding her hair away from her face, letting it tumble down around her shoulders. Picking up curl between two fingers, she let the first sob ring out.  
  
It was blonde.  
  
Adora looked up at Matthew, both of them with tears running down their cheeks. “You...” she whispered, her voice echoing in the silence. There was absolutely no need for microphones, now. “You don’t love me anymore?”  
  
“I do,” Matthew said weakly, sobbing once.  
  
Dominic’s eyes were blurry and unfocused. He could feel his mother’s eyes upon him, hear his own heart hammering in his ears as Adora stepped towards Matthew.  
  
“Then what is  _this_?” she shrieked, running her hands through Matthew’s hair as Dominic had done so many times before.  
  
It was black.  
  
“What is  _this_?” she cried, grabbing fistfuls of her long hair and shoving it towards Matthew. “I love you with _all my heart_ , so why is my hair not black?  _Why am I not a Unique?_ ”  
  
“I--” Matthew stuttered, backing away slightly. Off the side of the stage, Paix had stopped attempting to rouse Joie and was simply telling everyone to go home. Something about an emergency meeting was mentioned but Matthew could hear nothing over the ringing in his ears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning around to run off the stage, into the connecting corridor of the temples.  
  
He reached the cool darkness of the lobby, which was thankfully empty. He leant heavily against a stone wall, hunching over on himself and dry heaving.  
  
“I don’t deserve this,” Matthew said to himself, choking down another sob.  
  
“Your father is looking for you,” a voice said suddenly, and Matthew straightened up to find his mother, staring at him with folded arms. She offered no further explanation, and suddenly the penny dropped.  
  
It wasn’t just Matthew’s dreams that had been shattered in front of millions of people.  
  
“ _Maman_ ,” he said, his voice cracking. It was the first time he had ever uttered that word in his life. “ _Maman_ , please. Please  _Maman_ , I can’t face him, please,” he said hysterically, looking down at himself. He realised he was still wearing his robe, and he ripped it from his body, leaving him in a white shirt and trousers.  
  
The colour of purity and innocence.  
  
“Matthew...” she started reasoning, but before she could say anymore her son had clasped his hands around her waist, burying his face into her neck and crying louder than he ever had before. When she gently pushed him away as to see his face, he was shaking like a leaf.  
  
“You don’t have to see your father,” she began, swallowing the lump at the back of her throat as she hesitantly added, “yet. First, you have to see...”  
  
Matthew knew what was coming. His breath came quick and fast, and the ringing in his ears was louder than ever. All he could see in his vision were coloured spots.  
  
Before he hit the floor (or before Calliope’s arms caught him; he never found out), he heard the name of the woman he had so bitterly betrayed; the woman who made Agostino’s humiliation look entirely irrelevant.  
  
“Adora.”


	31. péripétie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations can make or break us...

 

“Bloody hell, Nancy, trust you to get caught up in all of that.”

Dominic lay prone on the tatty sofa in the living room, pretending to be asleep. Nancy and his mother were sitting only a few feet away, talking in quiet tones as Annie daubed at a ferocious wound on his twin’s cheek. He let his breaths consume his mind, attempting to ignore their conversation, but their words wormed their way into his head nevertheless.

“It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t trying to start a riot with anyone, Mum.” Nancy’s voice was petulant. “Ben had a hold of my hand and then he just... we just lost each other.”

Flashes of the moments that had immediately followed Matthew’s departure from the stage crossed through Dominic’s mind, hazy and incomplete. He remembered standing completely still, watching Adora fall to her knees and scream, tugging at her hair as if she was trying to pull it out. He remembered feeling sick to his stomach, turning away from the stage, but he could still hear her crying, still hear her heart breaking. He wanted to leave, but suddenly every face was hostile.

The glouglous around him were staring over at the Voix with fire in their eyes, fire unquenchable by reason or by any other force. They had seen what they shouldn’t have seen: vulnerability in their rulers. And now, as Dominic watched, their teeth were clenching, their jaws hardening, their hands curling into fists.

A small boy, no older than fifteen, must have been the start of it. At least, that’s what Dominic saw. He watched as the boy picked a pebble from the ground, holding it in his hand, testing the weight. He watched the pebble soar through the air and land easily on the other side of the fence, skittering to a halt at a Voix’s feet.

“Don’t!” Dominic said, but his voice was lost in a sudden tide of noise, of shouting and screaming as the glouglous surged towards the fence. Dominic turned blindly, reaching for his mother’s hand and pulling her thoughtlessly in the opposite direction.

Faces rushed past him in a stream, as he carved a path through the innumerable glouglous. He ignored the pull to lose his mother’s hand and turn back with them, be a nameless, faceless number in a crowd of people hellbent on revenge. But  _he_ had started this, not the boy with the pebble.  _He_ had ignored the rules and put his life - and his family’s life - in danger.  _He_ had fallen in love with Matthew, and it was entirely his fault.

“Dom, stop!” Annie yelled as they reached the edge of the crowd, the scattered families that remained searching for their loved ones amongst a tide of bodies. “Dom, where’s Nancy? Where’s your  _sister_?” Tears began to stream down her face. “Nancy!” she screamed. “ _Nancy_!”

“Get back,” Dominic said firmly. “Mum, please, get back. I’ll go back in, I’ll find her. Please stay here.”

He let her hand fall from his grip, but she was clutching his face and pressing their foreheads together. She whispered something, something that Dominic didn’t hear, because the tumultuous noise had reached a crescendo. He could hear the melodic screams of Voix louder now than ever before, and with the thought of Nancy alone and terrified, he turned and walked back into the crowds.

The glouglous had tipped the fence over and were now spilling over to the Voix side of the compound. They had no weapons, but they were fighting with their fists, and the Voix were utterly powerless to stop them. As the glouglous streamed amongst the Voix, they began to thin out around Dominic, and soon there were only bodies, motionless and still, on the ground around him.

He began to panic, scanning faces for his twin’s familiar features. “Nancy!” he shouted. “Nancy, come on, we have to go!”

There was a beat of silence, and a single straggler made their way out of the crowd. Dominic squinted. Could it be her?

“It’s alright, Dom!” a recognizable voice called: it was Ben. As he made his way closer, Dominic spotted a loose, bedraggled form in Ben’s arms. “It’s okay, I’ve got her. I lost her in the crowd but... but I found her again.”

Dominic walked away from the breakdown of society and for the first time since the pebble flew over the fence, he thought of Matthew and began to cry.

“Mum, that  _hurts_ ,” Nancy hissed, and suddenly Dominic was back in the present.

“Your bloody fault,” Annie replied, but Dominic could tell she was smiling. There was a pause, during which Dominic merely stared at the opposite wall and tried not to make a sound. “Nancy, has Dom--?”

“No. Hasn’t said a word to me, Mum. He’s just been lying there.”

“Oh,” Annie said, and Dominic could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Well, when he wakes up, can you tell me? I need a word with him.”

Nancy let out a soft noise of discomfort, presumably as Annie dabbed her wound with a homemade remedy. Rubbing alcohol would’ve worked better but they didn’t have the money to buy any unnecessary medicine, with Dominic not being paid. “D’you think it’s because of him, then?” his twin mumbled. “That... that Matthew...”

“I don’t know,” his mother said firmly. “We’ll have to ask him, won’t we?”

“I don’t care what they did,” Nancy said after a moment. “What Dom did for that to happen, I mean. Somebody needed to tell the Voix that they’re not as perfect as they think they are.”

“You won’t be saying you don’t care when glouglous start dying. It was a miracle they only got injured at Dévoilement, but that miracle won’t last long and I’m sure it’s all we have to hold on to for a long time to come. No, Nancy, I think this uprising is going to run out of steam soon enough, and then everything’ll be the same as it used to be.”

“It’ll be worse,” Dominic said suddenly, standing up and walking towards Nancy and his mother, who were sitting at the table and looking over at him with equally concerned expressions. “Do you really think that once the glouglous decide to stop revolting, that the Voix are just going to sit back and let us get away with it?”

Annie sighed, her shoulders slouching. For once, she couldn’t answer her son’s question. “Your face’ll be fine, love. Don’t start prodding it or anything stupid like that,” she said, patting Nancy’s scarred cheek with light, soft fingers. “C’mere, Dom.”

She stood up, arms open wide, and Dominic fell into her embrace without a word, burrowing his head into the crook of her neck. Tears fell from his eyes once more - all he seemed to be doing lately was crying - and he felt Annie press a kiss to his forehead and pull back, holding his face in her hands. “Now, sweetheart, I hate to ask this of you, but you’re going to have to tell me about Matthew. Properly, this time.”

Nancy stiffened slightly in her seat, and over his mother’s shoulder, Dominic could see her sudden interest in the conversation. Annie pulled back from the hug, throwing a glance at her. “Go do something constructive, girl,” she said, one hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I think Ben was wanting to see you.”

“Ben always wants to see me - I’m just that damn resplendent. Plus, Dom’s dishing the dirt. I wanna listen.”

“If your brother wants to tell you, he can tell you, but he’s telling me and I don’t want you making your strange little comments. Go on, take your resplendent face and put it somewhere else.”

Grumbling to herself, Nancy stormed upstairs, leaving Dominic and Annie alone.

Annie walked slowly over to the sofa and sat down, patting the seat beside her with a small smile. “Go on, then,” she said. “And I promise not to interrupt.”

Dominic took his time, fidgeting with his hands before following his mother’s footsteps and lowering himself into the seat. He took a deep breath, tears filling his eyes and he fell back into the cushions as he spoke. “So, you know about us, kind of. It’s always been a bit weird, it was never a love at first sight thing - I mean, the first thing he said to me was that he wanted me hanged. When we were songwriting, we... we argued, and we got angry, but I saw a different side of him and I fell in love with it. With the Matthew that nobody ever gets to see.” He felt Annie’s hand lock with his and a single tear dropped into his lap. “I asked Robin to help me--”

“ _Robin_?” Annie said sharply. “I--”

“You promised no interruptions,” Dom mumbled, and his mother fell silent. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I pretended I was going to kill Matthew so I could persuade Robin to help me get into the temples. This was when I was staying at Scrap’s, and I left you the note and you guessed about me and Matthew. The first time I was there, we... we... we, uh...” Dominic blushed violently. There was nothing to be embarrassed about, but the thought of saying those words in front of his mother was forcing the words back down his throat. “You know. And he said he loved me, Mum, and I just... I felt so  _complete_.”

A shuddering breath punctuated his words, Annie’s hand squeezing comfortably around his. “That next morning, I called him Matt. It was an accident, on the spur of the moment. And he got mad, and I didn’t know he stayed mad, even after he sent me away. It was a week, almost two. But I went back, and I was gonna make things right, but the second I went in there, I... I just wanted to hurt him. We fought - that’s where all those marks on me came from. But we’re alright now, me and Matthew. We’re...” he thought back to the morning after their fight and a smile lit up his features. “We’re perfect.”

“Well,” Annie said crisply after a moment. “You’re not going to be so bloody perfect for long. Do you remember the whole ‘Matthew is a Unique’ thing at all? Were you there when Adora Constantine broke down in tears for the whole world to see?”

“Mum,” Dom said weakly, but when he looked over to her she was giving him a sad little smile. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “Lysander caught me on the way back, that morning I was all beat up, and he made me doubt if Matthew loves me, still. He was so shocked about Adora, Mum. What if he doesn’t love me anymore?”

“Don’t be daft,” Annie said, squeezing his hand. “Not being funny, but why was Lysander talking to you?”

“He noticed my hair. It’s lighter, isn’t it?” Annie nodded slightly. “He said my skin was paler too. He guessed that me and Matthew had... y’know,” he shrugged. “And that we were in love. That’s what triggers the Uniques changing - they have to be in love, and they have to have done...  _it_. So that’s why Matthew’s hair turned dark, and that’s why mine’s gone lighter.”

“You’re not going to to turn into a Voix, are you?” Annie asked, exasperated. Dominic couldn’t help but laugh at the utterly disgusted expression on her face.

“I don’t know, Mum. Maybe Lysander knows, though... but I don’t know why he knows so much in the first place. No one knows much about him at all, to be fair,” Dominic mused to himself, his mother wrapping her arm around him.

“We’re going to get through this,” Annie said after a beat. “Somehow. I promise you, Dominic. You and me and Nancy, we’re going to be alright.”

*

Matthew was standing outside the door of Dominic’s office, waiting to go into one of the Bellamys’ finest parlours. Paix and Joie had been ushered in a few minutes ago, just before he’d arrived home, escorted by his mother and a few muscular Voix. There hadn’t been a single glouglou in sight when they’d left via the back entrance of the temples.

Staring resolutely at the worn door handle, Matthew thought of all the things that had happened in that office. The fights they’d had, the cigarette he’d smoked, the song he’d sung over and over again for Dominic. He thought of the glouglou, of  _his_ glouglou, and wondered how he was.

He almost wished Dom was feeling as miserable as he was.

So consumed in his doom, Matthew didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approaching behind him. Turning, his heart sank when he saw that it was Adora. Her hair was put up in an elaborate French twist, as if to keep it out of her sight. Knowing Adora, he was surprised she hadn’t cut it all off in a fit of fury, because when she was angry, it was normally the scariest thing he’d ever seen.

But then again, Matthew wasn’t sure if he really know Adora anymore.

“Hello,” she said curtly, but the tone sounded odd and forced. She was wearing a floaty dress, and Matthew silently remarked that they matched, as they had done for all these years.

“Adora, I--” he found himself saying, but Adora silently held her finger up to his lips. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be interrupted, she let her hand fall to her side again.

“Matthew,” she said, and he knew instantly that she was trying very hard not to cry; he was certain of it. “I know that you may not love me anymore,” she said, pausing when Matthew opened his mouth to object and watching it fall shut again, “but this may concern you.”

Slowly, as if the world was ending and Matthew could only stand and watch, Adora pinched the sides of her dress and pulled it back, letting the fabric fall taught across her stomach. Matthew blinked, unable to accept the small yet round lump where her flat belly should be.

“No...” he whispered for the second time that day. “You...”

Adora bit her lip, a tear running down her cheek. “I am, Matthew. I’m pregnant.”


	32. désavoué

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agostino doesn't like what he hears...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight violence and gore here. Nothing more than what we've already seen, though.

Matthew didn’t have any time to let the shock of becoming a  _father_  sink in. Rather, he didn’t have the choice, because as soon as the words fell from Adora’s lips, his own father emerged from the parlour before him.  
  
“They’re ready for you,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless as he stalked past them, not before throwing Matthew a hateful, disgusted look. Despite his father’s coarse attitude, despite everything that Agostino had done, Matthew’s throat began to sting. He had always craved his father’s approval and now there was no chance it was ever going to happen.  
  
Glancing over to see that Adora had already walked into the parlour without him, he followed her inside and closed the door behind him.  
  
Paix and Joie were sitting primly in their seats, hands clasped in their laps in a perfect mirror image. Joie lifted a hand and gestured to the opposite seats, lips pressed to a flat line.  
  
Matthew’s legs were unresponsive; heavy with dread, he moved slowly with his eyes on the floor. Adora passed him, one hand on her stomach, and Matthew’s eyes began to fill with tears. He blinked, shaking his head minutely as he eased down into his seat, Adora doing the same beside him.  
  
“Good afternoon,” Joie said quietly, her voice wavering as she spoke.  
  
Adora mumbled a greeting in response. Matthew said nothing.  
  
Paix gave Joie a questioning look; she simply shook her head, one hand now daintily over her mouth. With a quiet sigh, Paix began to speak. “Frankly,” he said, and his voice was emotionless, “there has never been a greater disappointment in my life than the pair of you. You have shown the Voix to be vulnerable. The glouglous think us weak. Matthew.” His voice rose sharply and Matthew looked up from his lap. “You disgust me. Your childish desires have led St. Pierre down a route it will be difficult to find our way back from. You have let your own lust overcome the true love and happiness you could have had with Adora. And as for you, Adora...”  
  
Matthew’s teeth gritted. It was fine, absolutely  _fine_ , for Paix to call him whatever he wanted, to make a fool out of him, to break him down. But Adora had done nothing wrong. He may not love her, no, but she was still someone he cared about.  
  
“You showed yourself at the Dévoilement. You made yourself out as someone to be pitied. The glouglous should not pity you. They should envy you.”  
  
“It’s not my fault I was upset,” Adora snapped suddenly. All eyes fell on her in surprise. Matthew knew she would  _never_  talk that way to an Ancien, but then again, he didn’t have pregnancy hormones surging around his body. “He broke my heart and left me alone. Did you honestly expect me to smile and carry on as if nothing had happened? Excuse me if I showed emotion, Paix! Excuse me if I did something that you seem utterly incapable of being able to do!”  
  
Paix remained impassive, his face a mask. “I shall excuse you for your petty words,  _fille_ , because I know of the life growing inside you.”  
  
Adora’s face was white with fear. “I...” she looked to Matthew beseechingly. “I don’t... How?”  
  
Joie spoke suddenly, in a tiny and reserved voice. “You show the glow of an expectant mother, Adora,” she said, giving the tiniest of smiles.  
  
Paix threw a look at his sister, jaw clenched. Perhaps, Matthew thought, they weren’t as seamless as they looked to be on the outside. “Regardless,” he said coolly, “we must take action. As such, any Unique duties that would have been undertaken by the both of you shall be cancelled, and you must pay penance for your crimes.”  
  
“What crimes?” Matthew mumbled. “All I did was love someone. That shouldn’t be against any law.”  
  
“You were supposed to love  _Adora_ ,” Joie said loudly. “Nobody else should have mattered to you.”  
  
Matthew fell into silence, guilt washing over him. He felt Adora shift beside him, and he planned his words. She deserved to know. “I  _did_  love Adora.”  
  
“It doesn’t quite work like that,” Joie continued, her voice growing stronger as she went. “Love is a delightful but tricky thing. The secret to love that it is a two-way thing, and the pinnacle of that for Uniques is it must be reciprocal and romantic.  _Example numéro un_ ,” she said, pointing one finger in the air. “A son may love his mother, and a mother may love his son. This is reciprocal love, but it is not romantic. _Example numéro deux_. A girl very much loves her boy romantically, but the boy only loves her as a friend.” Joie paused, letting Adora and Matthew glance at each other. “But, if the boy is in love with another person, then the boy will have found reciprocal love, albeit not from the same person. Sadly, the girl...” Joie’s clinical and detached voice broke as she let out a tiny sob.  
  
Matthew swallowed hard. “I just... I never... I...” Matthew faltered, looking defiantly at Paix and Joie before turning to Adora. “Adora. I’ve always loved you,” he said, and Adora started crying all over again. He took one of her hands, and to her credit she didn’t snatch it away, even when she had every right to. “I’ve always loved you and I always will. I’m going to live every day of my life wishing that I hadn’t hurt you like this. I’ll remember today, I’ll remember watching your heart break and I’ll carry that with me for the rest of my days. I’ve never deserved you, I never have. You deserve someone who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted and more. I couldn’t and now I can’t. All I’ve given you is a painful reminder of me for the next eighteen years.” Matthew had started crying too, and Adora’s free hand was shakily wiping at her eyes. “I’m so sorry it wasn’t you,” he whispered, a sob choking him.  
  
“Who was it, then?”  
  
Matthew and Adora jumped the the voice. Agostino was standing in the doorway; Matthew didn’t know how long he had been listening, or how much he’d seen. He hoped he’d seen the anguish he was feeling, but a small part of his mind told him that if Agostino was furious, then that wouldn’t matter.  
  
“Well?” he said, walking slowly towards where Matthew sat. Adora released his hands, and Paix and Joie watched, for the second time that day, the calm before the storm abruptly end. “Who was it, hmm? Did you plant your cursed seed in her too, ey? Do I have to go and shake her father’s hand or something?”  
  
“There’s no her,” Matthew said quietly, and the room fell silent for a moment as they processed this information.  
  
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Adora announced, fleeing from the room with one hand over her mouth and the other on her stomach. Matthew was half-relieved, because at least she’d escaped the worst of the news.  
  
“Wonderful!” Agostino exclaimed, pacing in front of the shocked Anciens and Matthew. “So my  _only son_ isn’t only not a Unique, but he’s not going to give me any children either?”  
  
“Father, I--”  
  
“Two hundred years, Matthew!” he roared, Joie jumping visibly. “Two hundred years of flawless lineage! Generation after generation of successful Voix. Ten Uniques, excluding  _you_. And each and every one that wasn’t a Unique was in Les Voix du Monde. And now? Now?” Agostino laughed to himself, turning to the Anciens. Matthew felt a simmering rage settle in his stomach. Agostino wasn’t just angry, he was _performing_. “Now? All that comes to an end, and we don’t even have a Unique to thank for it.”  
  
“Agostino,” Paix said, and Matthew’s father, enraged as he was, at least had the respect to fall silent for a moment. “He is technically a Unique, although we need two for it to be an official title. Biologically, he is no longer simply a Voix. And, you must remember, if Matthew’s partner carries the gene, he could--”  
  
Agostino seethed, but nodded regardless. “Yes, yes, I understand,” he said, turning back to Matthew. “There’s hope, then, depending on whoever this  _man_  is,” he spat. “Tell me, what’s better, his genes or his voice?”  
  
Matthew closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he opened them again, he decided to meet Joie’s eyes; the lesser of three evils. “He can’t sing.”  
  
Agostino laughed nervously after a few moments of silence, bringing his hands together in front of him. Paix and Joie couldn’t see, but his fingers moved together to make a perfect chokehold in thin air. “What do you mean?” he said, his voice strained. “He can’t be that bad. No matter!” he shouted too quickly, stopping Matthew from doing any more damage and turning back to Paix and Joie. “I’ll speak with my son in private now. Calliope!”  
  
In an instant, Matthew’s mother entered the room. “Please show our guests out, dear?” he asked, Matthew beginning to shake. He’d never seen his father like this before. He knew things could only get worse. Calliope nodded, taking Paix and Joie to the door.  
  
Joie turned, eyes cast low as if she was thinking. Suddenly, she looked up and she nodded her head at Matthew. She hitched the outer skirt of her dress lightly and  _curtsied_  to Matthew. “ _Au revoir_ ,” she said quietly, before leaving the room.  
  
Paix chose to simply spit on the carpet before following his sister out.  
  
Agostino remained perfectly still, watching for Calliope to direct Paix and Joie towards the front door before hurrying back into the room. Before the door had even clicked shut behind her, Agostino had spun around and was holding Matthew by the neck.  
  
“What. Were. You.  _Thinking_?!” Agostino screamed, Matthew’s legs kicking in midair as his hands scrabbled at Agostino’s skin. Drawing blood, Matthew was thrown onto the floor, gasping for breath. “Who is it?  _Who is it?!_ ”  
  
Matthew was crawling, scrambling on his hands and knees to get away from his father. He managed to get behind one of the sofas in the room, standing up and putting a couple of seconds between them. His father wasn’t in shape, and he wouldn’t try jumping over the sofa even if he  _was_ intent on murdering his son.  
  
Matthew was almost positive that he was.  
  
“Well?!” Agostino boomed, and Calliope gasped from the corner of the room, her hands thrown up to her face in shock.  
  
“I’m not going to tell you,” Matthew said defiantly. If he was going down, if today was his last day, then he was going to be killed with a sense of pride. He wasn’t going to tell the monster before him about the only person who could survive the wake his decisions and choices had left behind.  
  
“You  _are_ , you insolent little...” Agostino warned, not needing to finish the sentence to make Matthew’s Adam’s apple bob nervously.  
  
“No,” he said, teeth gritted in determination. “I won’t. I care far too much about him to reward  _you_  with such a prize. It’s probably not even who you think. It could be one of the hundreds of thousands around St Pierre. You’ll only find out over my cold, dead body,” Matthew said, and a sudden bolt of confidence gave him the audacity to smile.  
  
Agostino’s lip curled, his eyes holding such hatred that for a moment, Matthew felt like a little boy, scolded because he had failed to reach a note. “If I must,” his father whispered, with a sense of finality that sent a shiver running down Matthew’s spine, and then he was terrified again, backing against the wall with wide eyes.  
  
Agostino advanced on him slowly. They were a hair’s breadth from one another when a terrified scream rang out.  
  
“ _No!_ ” Calliope yelled. “No, Agostino! You don’t have to do this!” Her voice wavered, as if she was crying. “He’s just a silly little boy. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. I  _told_  him to stay away from that glouglou boy, but--”  
  
Matthew’s eyes closed in resignation as his father turned abruptly towards his mother. “You knew?!” Agostino thundered. “You... you  _knew_?”  
  
Calliope brought a hand to her mouth, eyes pleading as Agostino stalked towards her instead, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders. “P-please!” she stuttered. “Tino, let go of me...”  
  
“You betrayed me!” Agostino screamed, throwing her from his grasp. She landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, sobbing quietly as her husband towered over her.  
  
Matthew’s eyes flicked towards the scene, guilt overpowering him. Agostino wouldn’t dare harm Calliope. There was no chance that--  
  
A loud crack filled the silence of the room. Agostino’s hand had made contact with Calliope’s cheek. Guilt quickly replaced with rage, Matthew picked up the nearest object to him: a heavy bronze statuette. Unsure of what exactly he was going to do with it, he nevertheless inched forwards towards his father. His heart was beating in his ears.  
  
But as he stepped closer, Agostino turned again. Their eyes met; the exact same blue was mirrored and for a second Matthew wanted to fall into his father’s arms and beg for forgiveness. As they stood there, staring at each other, Matthew dared to hope that his father would crumple, that he would realise that it was pointless to do what he was thinking of doing. But then Agostino batted the statuette from his hand; his fist swung through the air and connected sharply with Matthew’s cheek.  
  
Matthew fell back, clutching at his face and begging himself not to cry. He wanted to push back, to hurt his father, but Agostino suddenly had him in a fierce grip, one hand with a fistful of Matthew’s shirt, the other beating repeatedly against his face. Pain tore through Matthew’s body. This was nothing like his fight with Dominic: he felt completely vulnerable, assured in the knowledge that Agostino was going to kill him.  
  
He was dropped to the floor and, without thinking, he began to scuttle away, nose bleeding profusely, but Agostino reached down and grabbed him by his left ankle. “No you don’t,” he growled, crouching on the floor beside his son and twisting until Matthew screamed in agony, kicking out of the grasp..  
  
Their eyes met again, but this time Matthew was crying freely. Tears slid down his cheeks; every time he breathed in, a shot of pain rocketed up his nose to the centre of his forehead. “Daddy...” he gasped through bloodied lips. The first time he’d ever uttered that word. “Daddy, please.”  
  
“I am not your father,” Agostino said, his voice soft. “This is not your home.”  
  
“P-please...” Matthew whined, hands reaching out to touch his father’s chest. “Daddy,  _please_...”  
  
Agostino brushed Matthew’s hands away as if they were infected with some deadly disease. “You are not my son,” he said.  
  
A choked sob tore from Matthew’s lips. “ _Papa, s’il vous plaît--”_  
  
His words were cut off as Agostino kicked him sharply in the stomach. Matthew gasped for breath, rolling onto his back, his eyes streaming.  
  
“You were always going to be a disappointment to me,” Agostino said bitterly. “I should have realised this on the day you were born.”  
  
“Are you...” Matthew coughed, droplets of blood spraying onto the pristine white carpet. “Are you going to kill me?”  
  
“I would kill you. Oh, trust me,” he laughed bitterly, “I’m restraining myself from killing you at this very moment. I could so easily wrap my hands around your neck and watch you turn lifeless. Alas, some of us have a reputation to uphold.” He paused, and Matthew knew he was doing it for effect. “Get out of my sight, you  _cassé_.”  
  
Matthew lay still for perhaps a second before practically crawling towards the door. Every inch of him ached, inside and out. He heaved himself to his feet, pushing the door open and making a staggering path towards Dominic’s office, whimpering each time his left foot touched the floor.  
  
He heard footsteps behind him. His heart began to thunder in his ears: Agostino had changed his mind, and Matthew was going to die. He turned back, terrified, but it wasn’t his father that met his eyes. It was Calliope.  
  
“Matthew, I--”  
  
She stopped abruptly. Agostino had followed her out and was gripping tightly to her wrist. “You dare follow him!” he seethed through gritted teeth. “You  _dare_!”  
  
“He is my  _son_!” Calliope yelled, wrenching her hand from Agostino’s grip.  
  
“But you are my  _wife_!” Agostino snarled. Calliope turned towards him, her hand slicing through the air and slapping him hard across the face.  
  
“Do not think that a bond of marriage is stronger than a bond of love between mother and son,” she said. “Go, Matthew.  _Go_.”  
  
Matthew turned and ran, but faster than he anticipated, his father was standing at the entrance to the house, shaking his head slowly. He skidded to a halt, twisting quickly and running in the opposite direction. He didn’t know where he was going: corridors flashed by him, too blurred to be recognisable through his tears. Pain overtook his need to run for a moment, and he doubled over, vomiting blood into a pot plant. Heart rate fast, breaths hard, he continued, turning corners until he was sure he’d lost himself entirely in the house. He spotted a familiar door and leant against it, a lump in his throat. He had made a circle, and was now back where he had started, between the parlour and Dominic’s office. His father was nowhere to be seen.  
  
He pushed the door open to Dominic’s office and closed it behind him, breathing in the familiar smell. He could have easily hidden there forever, but he knew that Agostino would find him. Matthew lingered only to pick up Dominic’s forgotten hoodie, which was countless sizes too large for him. Slipping it on and zipping it up, he opened the door once more and stepped out into the open.  
  
Calliope was rushing towards him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Run, baby,” she whispered, holding his face in her hands and pressing a kiss to the tip of his broken nose. “I love you, and I will always love you, but please.  _Run_. There are so many people who want your blood, and... and sadly, your father is one of  them,” she sobbed, running a blood splattered hand through his blood soaked hair. One of her cheeks was still bright red, and Matthew regretfully knew that it wasn’t the last of her injuries today.  
  
“I love you,  _Maman_ ,” Matthew whispered.  
  
“I love you too,  _mon petit_. I’ll see you soon.”  
  
She pushed him forwards slightly, and he stumbled, but picked himself up, sprinting as best as he could towards the unguarded door and stepping into the brisk evening air.  
  
Although it was the height of summer, Matthew shivered, thankful for the warm comfort of Dominic’s hoodie. He snuggled into it, breathing in the smell and exhaling quietly. It calmed him, and for a moment he forgot that his temperature would drop rapidly as night fell, especially with all the blood he was losing. He had no idea where Dominic lived, other than that it was in Sector 3.  
  
Bloodied and bruised, Matthew limped along the garden path and out into St. Pierre. At dusk, the city came alive; one of the many reasons Matthew was confined to the Voix side of St Pierre after hours. The Voix streets were deserted save for the lights flickering on in the mansions, all looking cold and loveless in the fading light. Matthew found himself wondering what Dominic’s house was like. It was probably more of a home than his own was.  
  
Used to be.  
  
Swallowing hard, Matthew carried on slowly, wincing each time he put weight on his left leg. The pavement gave away to a dirt road underfoot, and Matthew sighed with relief. His nose was still bleeding, and he found a tissue balled up in one of the pockets. He unravelled it with shaking hands, pressing it against his nose and trying to stop tears from streaming down his cheeks.  
  
Matthew couldn’t die from blood loss, but he’d instantly be identified as a Voix if they saw someone as bloody as him lingering in the glouglou streets. Then again, the figures passing him were looking increasingly injured. Why?  
  
As he came over the small crest of the hill that led into Sector 1, Matthew gasped.  
  
St Pierre was truly alive.  
  
Fires dotted the skyline in far flung sectors, thick smoke obscuring the dying rays of the pinkish sun. People in the next street down were bare knuckle fighting, and Matthew found himself feeling oddly detached when he realised it was Voix versus glouglou. He pulled his head up tightly around his face, not wanting to be seen at all.  
  
For the first time in his life, he wanted to disappear completely.  
  
Hunched inwards, eyes on the floor, he walked with purposeful movements - or at least what he hoped would appear purposeful - attempting to avoid passers-by at all costs. As he moved further into Sector 1, his ears picked up on hazy words being shouted into the night.  
  
Matthew braved a glance upwards. He was walking down an empty street he was sure he’d never been down before, but even as he stopped to find his bearings, three indistinct figures stumbled around the corner. They walked as a group, obscuring Matthew’s path; heart in his throat, he backed into the wall, hoping to appear invisible.  
  
Apparently, the gods were against him tonight.  
  
“Lads, would you just take a look at this?” a voice said: as they neared, Matthew recognized the three to be male glouglous. “This skinny bugger thinks he can walk around the streets at a time like this and get away with it. Don’t you, pretty boy?”  
  
Matthew kept his head down, shaking visibly. “N-no...” he replied in a tiny voice.  
  
“No?” the man leered closer, close enough for Matthew to be able to smell the alcohol on his breath. He coughed, twisting his head away, but the man caught it in rough, calloused fingers. Matthew felt himself being pulled towards the glouglou: he was going to be recognised, and then what would happen? Oh, God, they were going to kill him, weren’t they? “Hey...” the glouglou said slowly. “Aren’t you--?”  
  
“You tryna start a fight?” another male voice chimed in, and the glouglou stepped back from Matthew.  
  
“He was on his own,” the glouglou said innocently.  
  
“Pick on someone your own size. He ain’t worth fightin’.”  
  
“Yeah, ’cause you know all about fighting, don’t you,  _Voix_?”  
  
Matthew cowered helplessly as the three glouglous and the one Voix traded insults. Eventually, to Matthew’s relief, the glouglous scuttled off, leaving Matthew and the other Voix alone.  
  
“What the bloody hell are you doin’ down here this time of night?” the Voix asked. “I mean, if you want a fix, I can set ya up good and easy, but you don’t come down  _this_ street. We clear?”  
  
Matthew looked over at the Voix, the accent familiar to him. “Lysander?” he whispered. A flare of light in the distance caught the Voix’s angular features and strong, prominent jaw. Matthew practically collapsed in equal parts relief and fear.  
  
“ _Matthew_?” Lysander stepped briskly closer and circled a hand around Matthew’s wrist, leading him gently to the dim, flickering light of a nearby streetlamp. “Christ on a bike, what the  _hell_  happened to you?”  
  
“I...” Matthew’s lip wobbled. He tore his wrist from Lysander’s grip, shaking his head. “I need to see Dominic.”  
  
“Oh, yeah. That one. Your lover, eh?” Lysander gave a conspiratorial wink, grinning, though there was no humour in his eyes.  
  
“I could have you hanged for--” Matthew faltered suddenly, eyes wide as he realised just how helpless he was without the fear of Agostino’s wrath to give weight to his threats. “I’m sorry. I... I just need somewhere to stay.”  
  
Lysander’s face was solemn and serious as he placed a comforting hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll pop in tomorra if I can. There’s a story to tell, but for now, I’ll tell ya where he lives.”  
  
For reasons that Matthew couldn’t quite fathom - possibly because of the pain that sluiced uncomfortably through his body, possibly because of his desperation to see Dominic, possibly because it had simply been an incredibly long day - he flung himself into Lysander’s arms and mumbled, “thank you.”  
  
“No problem,” Lysander said, sounding more than a little nonplussed. “Go on. Hurry up, before someone else turns up. I ain’t gonna be around to protect ya forever.”

*

Annie heaved a sigh of relief, settling down on the sofa with a battered book of Nancy’s. She normally wasn’t one for reading, but she needed to take her mind off the day’s events. Nancy had only just gone to bed, after Annie finished applying a third round of remedy to her cheek which should last her through the night; it shouldn’t scar, but if it did, it would be quite a striking feature.  
  
Dominic had gone to bed a few hours before, when he burst out in tears at the dinner table. Annie helped him finish his stew, then she helped him up and into bed. He had been shaking non-stop all afternoon, terrified that something had happened to Matthew over the course of the day. Annie had soothed him, stroking his hair and lying to him that it would all be better in the morning. It had contented her son enough to lull him into an albeit restless sleep.  
  
She was just contemplating whether she should make herself a cup of tea when someone started knocking on the door loudly enough to possibly wake her children. “Alright!” she called as loudly as she could. The knocking didn’t cease. “Alright, I’m coming!” she said, heaving herself up from the sofa and padding over to the door, swinging it open. “Do you even know what ti--”  
  
A figure in a hoodie was standing at the door, head pointed towards the ground so Annie couldn’t recgonise them immediately. The hands were covered in blood as they moved upwards, and just as Annie was about to slam the door in their face and scream bloody murder, they quickly pulled their hood down and she was met with big blue eyes.  
  
“Matthew,” she said, a hand on her chest. Almost every square inch of his face was bloodied or bruised in some way, and dried blood had matted in his black hair. He was trembling and biting his bottom lip.  
  
She knew Matthew was wanted. Her neighbours wanted the highest of Voix society dead, the Voix wanted Matthew to pay for his sins. But in that moment, her mothering instinct took over and she put an arm around Matthew, pulling him inside quickly and shutting the door.  
  
“What happened, love?” she asked, and suddenly Matthew burst out crying. “Bloody typical, you and Dominic are an emotional pair, I tell you,” she laughed to herself, sitting Matthew down at the kitchen table. He managed to smile at that through his tears, but continued to sob and occasionally hiccup as he watched Annie gather bowls of water and herbs.  
  
“Alright, love, what’s the worst of it?” she asked, coming back towards Matthew. He shrugged off the bloody hoodie, weakly gesturing it towards Annie.  
  
“This is Dominic’s,” he said quietly, and she smiled weakly, taking it from his hands and placing it on the arm of the sofa. The smile quickly faded, though when she saw that his shirt was splattered with blood. “My nose,” he said, pointing at his nose as if Annie had never seen one before. “And... I think...”  
  
Matthew stood up, unbuttoning his shirt wordlessly. He opened it for Annie to see a large purple bruise blossoming across his belly.  
  
“What happened?” Annie said, almost whispering. She busied herself mixing together an ointment, that she soon began to daub onto the bruise. Matthew hissed but managed to stay upright, leaning heavily on the table to keep the weight off his back leg.  
  
“My father found out,” he mumbled, and that was all the explanation Annie needed. She spent the next hour treating Matthew’s wounds; binding Matthew’s stomach in case of internal bleeding, attempting to set Matthew’s nose correctly, washing away all the blood from his face and hands, applying a bandage to his left ankle and finally sealing over his cuts with a herbal wash. Matthew thanked her multiple times and assured her that his body would heal itself up within days, but Annie didn’t trust Voix biology and so stubbornly used her own methods.  
  
Finally, she had done all the work she could do. They were both sat with a hot chocolate, a speciality she served for the rarest of nights when thoughts of Fleck kept her awake, and she smiled when Matthew’s eyes began to droop.  
  
“Dom is asleep upstairs,” she explained, Matthew seeming to perk up a little when his lover’s name was mentioned. It warmed her heart. “You can have the sofa if you want, or I can kick Nancy out of bed, you choose.”  
  
Matthew laughed timidly. “She hates me enough, I’m lead to believe,” he replied, eyes focussed on the mug in his hands. “I’ll happily take the sofa, thank you. I’m surprised you haven’t cast me out on the street yet.”  
  
“There’s plenty of time for that still,” she said, Matthew paling before she winked and laughed. “Bless. I’ll get you some blankets, drink that up first.”  
  
Matthew obliged, and within minutes Annie had returned with a pile of threadbare blankets that almost obscured her vision. “I know it’s nothing like what you’re used to, but--”  
  
“It’s fine, really,” he said with a small nod. “In the single hour I’ve been here, it’s felt more of a home than the place where I’ve spent the last twenty years of my life.”  
  
Annie nodded slightly, biting her lip. “Right, then,” she said, clearing her throat and putting the blankets down on the sofa. “I also found a few pairs of Dom’s old pyjamas and underwear. I’m sure they should fit you but it’s better than nothing.”  
  
After Matthew mumbled another thank you, Annie nodded and headed upstairs for the night, allowing Matthew to get changed in peace. The clothes smelled like Dominic and that thought made him smile, wrapping himself up in the blankets and settling into the sofa as comfortably as his injuries allowed. For the first time since Dominic left him the morning after their fight, Matthew slept peacefully.


	33. follement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lysander has a story to tell...

Matthew woke to the sound of shouting. The voices were unfamiliar, but still he curled in on himself protectively, expecting a blow that never came.

“What the hell is _he_ doing here?” a woman was shouting. Matthew couldn’t pair the voice with a name, but somehow he knew it wasn’t a stranger.

“Will you _stop_ shrieking like a banshee and calm yourself down?” This voice was definitely familiar, as it belonged to Annie. Dominic’s mother, who had shown him such kindness in the face of punishment. Matthew felt a little more comfortable. Annie would not let the other woman harm him. He _knew_ she wouldn’t.

Blearily opening his eyes, Matthew assessed his surroundings. Sunlight streamed in from a nearby window, whiting out his vision for a moment; he screwed his eyes shut, wincing, and tugged a hand through his hair. “What’s going on?” he mumbled, his voice slurred with sleep.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out Annie, standing with her hands on her hips, and a younger woman mirroring her pose exactly. Matthew swung his legs over the side of the sofa and stood up, stretching his arms above his head.

Nobody spoke for perhaps a minute.

“You’re not welcome here,” the woman sneered suddenly. “Go away.”

“Nancy, don’t be rude,” Annie admonished. “Of course you’re welcome here, Matthew.”

The events of the previous night rushed back to Matthew in a wave and he stumbled backwards, sitting down on the sofa with his head in his hands. “No,” he said in a voice thick with guilt. “She’s right. I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting all of you in danger. I should go.”

“Perhaps you _should_ go,” Annie said, sitting down beside Matthew. “Maybe that _is_ the best thing for us. But, and this is only one reason of many, if Dom finds out that you were here and I sent you out, we’d never hear the end of it. Plus, he loves you,” she paused, looking directly at Nancy, “and so we should treat you with respect.”

Matthew gave a sad, watery smile. “I’m sorry I’m doing this to you all.”

“Well,” Nancy said sharply, “you should be.”

Nevertheless, she sat down in the armchair and pulled her legs to her chest, staring over at him and resting her chin on her knees. He watched her with interest; her eyes were the exact same shade as Dominic’s. He vaguely remembered having met her before, if only briefly, and she had been introduced as Dominic’s twin. It made sense, now that Matthew looked at her properly. They were identical in almost every way.

“Nancy,” Annie said softly. “Why don’t you go to Ben’s for a little bit?”

“Gladly,” Nancy sniffed, indignant, marching from her seat. A few moments later, the front door opened and slammed shut.

“Where’s Dominic?” Matthew asked. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, he’s...” Annie grimaced. “Well, he’s not... hm... he’s not his usual chipper self, I’ll give you that. I’m almost certain he cried himself to sleep last night. Your wounds are looking better,” she added. “They haven’t magically disappeared like you said they would, though.”

Matthew blinked. “Can I go and see him?”

“What? Dominic? He’s still asleep, I think. But if you want to spend your morning watching him snore and grumble in his sleep, that’s fine by me.”

Matthew could think of nothing better. “I’d love to,” he said, standing up with difficulty and limping towards the staircase.

“You two are going to be bloody insufferable, I can just tell,” Annie said. “Honestly, I know you’re in love and it’s all beautiful and rosy and nice, but Dom is the ugliest thing on the planet when he’s asleep. He kicks, too. Nancy’s come down with bruises sometimes.”

Matthew wrinkled his nose. “They... they share a bed?”

“Welcome to Sector 3,” Annie said with a bright smile but weary eyes. “Go on up, it’s the second on the right.”

Suddenly feeling disgusted at the size of his own bedroom, Matthew inched upstairs and along the corridor. His limbs were still sore; it worried him that he still hadn’t healed, but that was the last thing on his mind as he pushed open the door to the room Annie had mentioned.

It was cluttered and messy, and the floor was littered with scraps of stave paper (probably Dominic’s) and tatty dresses (hopefully Nancy’s). Matthew closed the door quietly behind him and turned to the bed, which looked much too small to fit both Dominic and Nancy.

All the worries in the world were lifted from Matthew’s shoulders as he spotted Dominic’s head, hair ruffled and untidy, poking out from beneath the covers. Though asleep, his forehead was still creased with worry and as Matthew watched, he let out a muffled groan.

Matthew didn’t stop to think about it. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed beside Dominic and make him smile, and so he did. The bed was uncomfortably warm, and as the Voix placed a hand to his glouglou’s forehead, he could feel sweat line the skin. Sighing, he settled himself with one leg sticking out from under the duvet and the other wrapped around Dominic’s, laying his head on the glouglou’s chest.

He could have stayed there all day, but after an hour Dominic’s eyes fluttered open and Matthew’s lips curled into a smile. “Hello,” Matthew whispered, nudging his nose against Dominic’s.

“Hello, beautiful,” Dominic replied softly, letting his eyes fall shut again. He began to smile to himself, when something obviously clicked in Dominic’s head and his eyes flew open. His lips twitched and moved to form words but no sound came out.

Dominic settled for pressing his fingertips against Matthew’s cheek bone, tracing as gently as he could along a cut there. He cupped Matthew’s cheek with his hand, his thumb rubbing across Matthew’s swollen lip. “It’s really you,” Dominic breathed, their noses still touching.

“You sound disappointed,” Matthew stated, smiling fully as Dominic’s eyes crinkled in a quiet laugh.

“What happened to your face?” Dominic asked sweetly.

For the next half hour, Matthew explained the events of the previous day. He told Dominic how he was taken back to the house to meet the Anciens, where they discussed love and loyalty and he explained how Agostino had violently disowned him. He told Dominic everything, apart from the small matter of the bastard child Adora was carrying.

“I think the weirdest thing,” Matthew said, looking up over his shoulder as Dominic spooned him, careful not to rest his hands against Matthew’s bruised stomach, “was meeting Lysander in Sector 1.”

Dominic scoffed. “That’s not weird or surprising in the slightest. He once tried to get Nancy working the streets down there, when we were in debt to you.”

“Oh,” Matthew said, the penny dropping. “Is that why she hates me?”

“One of a few reasons,” Dominic said with a smirk, dropping a kiss into Matthew’s hair. “The majority of them are petty, and I think she’s a teeny bit jealous. She always thought you were _handsome_ ,” he laughed, imitating her voice. “Regardless, it’s not worth wasting breath over. In other news, I like your hair now.”

“I hate it,” Matthew replied quickly, “and what does that mean?” he asked, rolling over to face Dominic once more. “Did you not like it when it was blond?”

“Oh no, I did,” Dominic said, pressing a kiss to the corner of Matthew’s mouth to stop him pouting, “but you looked like all the other Voix. Now, you look--”

“Don’t say that word,” Matthew said sourly, and Dominic shut his mouth. Before they further strayed dark waters, Annie hollered up the stairs that they should _get their arses in clothes_ because they had a visitor.

“I’d much rather stay in bed all day with you,” Matthew mumbled, making no move to get out of bed. Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Not like _that_. Well, maybe. Just... I’ve felt so lonely and... don’t laugh at me!”

Dominic was giggling behind his hand, watching Matthew’s pout transform into something even more puppy dog like, only causing Dominic to laugh harder. He leant in, finally pressing their lips together for the first time in too long. Matthew sighed happily, his toes wriggling against the tops of Dominic’s feet as he deepened the kiss.

“Boys!” Annie screeched. “No lunch for you if you’re not down in three minutes!”

“Nghh,” Dominic mumbled against Matthew’s lips, reluctantly pulling away. “I love my mother dearly but fucking hell, she’s such a cockblock.”

Matthew gave Dominic a curious look as he rolled out of bed, shedding Dominic’s pajamas with no shame. The glouglou frowned when he saw the bandaging around Matthew’s stomach. “What does that mean?” Matthew asked, stepping out of his boxers and holding them in the air, unsure of what to do with them.

“Oh,” Dominic said, trying not to stare at Matthew naked. It had been a while. “Um, just, put them in that corner there,” he said with a laugh. “It means that she stops sex, though. Like this one time, me and Rory were just getting--”

“Alright, Dom, I’m not too keen on hearing about your previous sexual endeavours,” Matthew said with a smile, padding towards the chest of drawers, “although I’m not the jealous type,” he added hurriedly, and Dominic grinned at the lie. Stripping himself of his clothes, he joined Matthew at the chest of drawers and pulled out some clothes for them both, throwing them on the unmade bed.

“You know... we’re both naked,” Dominic said, gripping Matthew’s hips from behind and pressing a kiss to his shoulderblade.

“Your powers of deduction are second to none,” Matthew quipped, although Dominic heard the breathy sigh escape his lips.

“We could tell my mother that I couldn’t find you any clothes,” Dominic murmured, pressing himself against Matthew’s bum. The Voix gasped, biting his lip.

“But... but food,” Matthew said, his stomach growling right on cue. He hadn’t eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours.

“Now _you’re_ the cockblock!” Dominic whined, turning away and laughing. They both dressed quickly, Dominic having a hard time adjusting himself in his jeans and Matthew bemused by a woollen jumper he was given to wear. Only one minute late, they arrived downstairs in the kitchen to find Lysander and Annie chatting happily at the table.

If Dominic’s life wasn’t bizarre enough already, this certainly would’ve fried his brain.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Lysander had noticed their arrival and was grinning with an expression that told them all too well what he was thinking. “Ah, so the lovers ’ave arrived,” he declared.

Dominic scowled, suspicious. He felt Matthew shift beside him and wordlessly reached over, interlocking their hands. “What are you doing here?”

“I distinctly remember tellin’ ya both I had a story,” Lysander replied easily. “Annie, you wouldn’t mind getting us a brew, would ya? I’m probably gonna be here a while.”

Annie nodded once, busying herself immediately with the kettle.

“Ya ain’t gonna stand there all day, are ya?” Lysander asked. “Why don’t you both plant your bums? Take a pew.”

Matthew threw a bemused look to Dominic, and they both walked over to the table, sitting down opposite the Voix.

“So,” Lysander said, arms folded on the table. Dominic leaned forward slightly, already intrigued. “You two think you’re a pair o’ pioneers, don’t ya? Startin’ your own little happy world where anythin’ ya do and anythin’ ya say is perfectly acceptable. Well, it ain’t. You’ve got a long way to go.”

Annie came tottering back over, carrying a chipped old teapot and four mugs on a tray. She set the tray down in the middle of the table and took her seat, looking over to Lysander curiously. “Go on, then. Don’t be so melodramatic.”

Lysander paused, pouring tea into his mug and adding a drop of milk. He stirred slowly, thoughtfully. Dominic ground his teeth. “Hurry up,” he said, irate. “We haven’t got all day.”

“I ain’t from around here,” Lysander said eventually.

“That’s not exactly shocking information,” Matthew commented with a wry smile.

Dominic’s eyebrows were raised. “It is to me!” he said. “I thought you were trying to be ironic or something.”

“Oi, stop interruptin’, the pair of ya.” Lysander scowled at both of them in turn. “As I was sayin’, I ain’t always lived in St. Pierre. I was born jus’ north of Dover.”

“ _That’s_ where that insufferable accent comes from,” Matthew muttered under his breath. All eyes turned to him. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet now.”

“Yeah. I ain’t tryin’ to glamourise myself or anythin’, but I was huge back there. I was a Unique, believe it or not,” he said, looking between the three of them. “Or not. Anywho, there’re a lot of differences between Dover and St. Pierre, but all the bloody pressure they put on kids like you--” he gestured at Matthew with a nod of his head “--can really tear you apart. I was s’posed to be paired with this girl. Evangeline,” he said with a grimace and a shake of the head. “Piece of bloody work she was. Makes your Adora look like an angel.”

He looked up to see the thunderous expression on Matthew’s face.

“Sorry. I ain’t tryna offend ya. Anyway, Evangeline was hard work at the best of times. Always pressin’ me, tryna make me better than what I was. Again, I ain’t blowin’ my own horn, but I was good enough already. I didn’t love her. I never loved Evangeline. There’s only one girl I ever loved in my life an’ her name was Jane.”

Matthew bristled. “That’s not a Voix name,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, that’s ’cause Jane weren’t a Voix.”

Dominic shifted in his seat, feeling Matthew’s hand squeeze his lightly. “What... what happened to her?”

“Jane was Evangeline’s maid. Back in Dover, glouglous were probably lower on the food chain than they are over here. They were basically slaves. Treated like shit, ’cause that’s all they were to us. An’ I remember the first time I ever saw Jane. God, she was beautiful. Eyes the colour of chocolate. An’ she had this smile what coulda lit up a city.” He smiled, tugging a hand through his blond hair before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and producing a small polaroid picture, which he slid across the table towards Matthew and Dominic.

It depicted a smiling girl, enviously beautiful in a homely kind of way. Her long, thick, brown hair fell over her shoulders in soft, natural curls; her head was resting on the shoulder of an equally happy-looking Lysander, much younger than he was now. His arm was resting on her waist, hugging her close with a protective warmth that painted a smile on Dominic’s lips.

“She’s beautiful,” Matthew said softly. He looked back up at Lysander, who was staring at the picture with blurry, unfocused eyes.

“Her hair...” Dominic whispered, gently touching a finger to the picture. “It didn’t turn blonde, like mine?”

“Oh, it did,” Lysander said, a tiny smile on his face. He looked fondly at the picture. “We had only jus’ started courting, then. You’re lucky, you’re almost blonde already. But Jane... There’s only so many headscarves you can wear before people get suspicious.”

Lysander swallowed hard, pausing for a few moments before continuing.

“I was gonna be a Unique. Me and Evangeline. And I’m tellin’ you now, I couldn’t think of a more horrendous prospect. The thought of having to pretend to love her for the rest of my life made me sick. I just wanted to be with Jane.” He took a deep, shaking breath. “Night before we were expecting ta’ go into Cachant, I asked Jane to run away with me. I promised her we’d go somewhere we weren’t gonna be hunted down. But she said she couldn’t leave her family behind. I didn’t get it then, ’cause I never really had a family, but now I do.”

An uneasy feeling was spreading throughout Dominic’s body. He wanted to ask so many questions, but he didn’t want to interrupt. Even as he sat there, he felt his mother’s hand intertwine with the hand Matthew wasn’t holding.

“Long story short,” Lysander said heavily, pulling the photograph towards him and tucking it back into his jacket pocket, “Evangeline saw us. Spiteful bitch that she was, she went running to the authorities the second we came outta Cachant an’ she was stood there with hair the colour o’ the midday sun.”

“What did they do?” Dominic breathed.

Lysander smiled bitterly, hand in his jacket pocket again. He threw another photograph across the table and they all watched it skitter to a halt in front of Matthew.

“They tortured her, an’ then they killed her,” Lysander said in a detached voice.

Dominic twisted his head away from the photograph, bile rising in the back of his throat at the brief glimpse he’d caught. The figure was beyond recognisable as Jane, if not for the striking brown eyes. She was standing against a wall, emaciated and beaten, staring numbly at the camera with empty eyes that had once been so full of life. Every inch of her body was bruised and bloody. Her hair had been shaved off completely, and the skin of her face was lacerated with a criss-cross pattern of scars and burns.

When he turned back to the table, Dominic avoided the photograph as best he could, but Matthew was staring at it as if he couldn’t draw himself away.

“I...” Matthew said thickly. He closed his eyes and a tear dropped onto the table. “I’m so sorry.”

Lysander took the photograph back, his eyes sparkling with tears. “I ain’t never told anybody about Jane before. She was my life, and they took her away from me. Glouglous are so fuckin’ pointless to them. They killed her, an’ they didn’t kill me, an’ every day I wish they did.”

Matthew’s head fell against Dominic’s shoulder, the tears rolling freely down his cheeks.

“They sent me over here, made me hide away until my hair changed back. It went brown, you see. I dunno how they made it do that, but it did. It was punishment for my sins or some bullshit like that. Anyway. I stayed, to live a ‘alf life of pissing off Voix an’ making glouglou lives a lil’ less miserable, whilst still tryna get my revenge.”

Dominic’s brow furrowed as he tried to work out how Lysander getting his revenge equated luring innocent glouglou girls into working under red lights in Sector 1.

“Matthew. Dom’nic,” Lysander said looking between the pair. “You’re in grave, _grave_ danger. I think you’re safe ‘ere for a while, but maybe a few days. Weeks at a push.”

Lysander reached into his other jacket pocket, producing a thin white envelope. He placed it down on the table, between them all. “Listen in an’ listen carefully. In here is your refuge. Your last chance of survival, if... to put it the glouglou way, if shit ‘its the fan. Do not, do _not_ open this ‘til the very last moment; if one escapes, an’ the other is captured, he’d be tortured ‘til ‘e revealed the contents of the envelope. If he didn’t know, there’d be a chance they’d acknowledge ‘is innocence.”

Lysander sat forward in his chair slightly, watching the blood drain from the three faces before him. “I wrote this up that morning after I saw Dom’nic, and I’ve been working on it since. If you follow it correctly, you might survive. I wished someone had been able to do this for me, so ‘ere I am, doin’ it for you.”

Dominic nodded, shocked. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You know, the first time I met you, I absolutely hated you,” he said with a vacant smile. “Now... I can’t thank you enough.”

Lysander tilted his head, almost nodding but not quite. “It’s bin an honour,” he said sincerely, meeting their eyes. “You’ve reminded me that true love does exist in this world, even if so many people will be willin’ to destroy it.”

Silence rang out for a few moments. The scrape of Lysander’s chair as he stood shocked them all, the atmosphere remaining heavy. “I best be off,” he said, trying but somehow failing to sound chipper. “I wouldn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to this little ‘ome of yours.” He extended a hand to Matthew, who shook it tightly after a few moments. Dominic let go of Matthew’s hands to follow suit, doing something he’d never thought he’d do. Annie stood up and pulled Lysander into a hug, the latter making a shocked face over her shoulder and putting a tiny smile on Dominic’s face.

“Take care, boys,” he said, walking to the front door but pausing as he grasped the handle. “An’ remember, curiosity killed the cassé. I learned that the hard way.”

With that sombre parting statement, their only hope of survival left the room.


	34. historiette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Matthew has a story to tell...

Matthew was worryingly quiet as the afternoon dragged on. He sat, thoughtful and silent, as the world moved around him. Annie wandered throughout the house, carrying piles of dirty washing that had been loaded into wicker baskets. The kitchen table was becoming an uncomfortable spot to sit; after a quick sandwich for lunch (which Matthew resolutely ignored), Dominic suggested that they move to the sofa.  
  
Matthew didn’t reply. He stared at his skinny, long-fingered hands as if they held the answers he was looking for.  
  
Sighing, Dominic pressed a kiss to Matthew’s cheek and stood up, walking over to the sofa and settling himself comfortably. Only moments later, Matthew scurried across the room and squirmed into Dominic’s embrace, his feet tucked up onto the cushions and his head resting on Dominic’s shoulder.  
  
“Are you alright?” Dominic asked as he wrapped an arm around Matthew’s waist and pulled him closer. “You’re awfully quiet.”  
  
“I’m just thinking,” Matthew replied softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “About you, and what happened to... what happened to Jane.” He looked up at Dominic then, blue eyes wide and shining with fear. “I don’t want that to happen to you, Dom. I...” he swallowed thickly. “I don’t think I could live with myself if they hurt you like they hurt her. I’ve hurt you like that before and...” Matthew shook his head. “If they took you away from me...”  
  
“That’s not going to happen,” Dominic said firmly. “You heard what Lysander said. We’ve got the envelope of mystery to protect us.” He nudged Matthew playfully with his elbow. “Crack a smile. Go on, I dare you.”  
  
Matthew’s lips twitched slightly. “Stop it. It’s not funny, Dom. I’m scared.”  
  
“Me too,” Dominic sighed. “But honestly, Matthew, we’re going to be okay. I promise.”  
  
“How can you promise me that when we’re both in grave danger? When your family is at risk of being tortured for information? When... when my mother is back at home with  _him_? How can you lie to me like that?” Matthew’s eyes filled with tears again.  
  
“I’m not lying to you,” Dominic persisted. “I’m promising you that me and you are going to make it through this somehow, because I know we are.”  
  
Matthew sighed. The reproachful look in his eye told Dominic that he still wasn’t convinced, but he nevertheless leaned up and pressed his lips to the glouglou’s. “I love you,” he said softly.  
  
“I lo--”  
  
“Get a room, why don’t you?” Nancy’s voice floated across the room to them. Dominic scowled, looking over his shoulder to see her poised in the doorway, glaring at them both. “You’re like a pair of rabbits.”  
  
“Nancy, you fuck, we were having a moment!”  
  
“What is this, a theatre production? Jesus, it’s embarrassing. You’re more of a girl than I am,” Nancy snapped, stalking across towards them and sitting down in the threadbare armchair.  
  
“Yeah, because when you and Ben made up, you weren’t like this at all,” Dominic mumbled with a roll of his eyes. “ _I love you, Ben! Never let me go!_ ” he said in a warbling falsetto. “ _Oh, Nancy, I love you too! Let us ride into the sunset on our chariot of love!_ ” he continued in a deep, gruff voice.  
  
Matthew sniggered quietly.  
  
“Don’t know what you’re laughing at,” Nancy commented with a nod to the Voix. “News is that Adora’s got a five page interview in  _Le Monde_  tomorrow.”  
  
The smile dropped from Matthew’s face in the blink of an eye. His skin was blanched a sickly white, and he only had to look at Dominic for the glouglou to understand. “She will have guessed. She’ll want revenge, Dom. She might adore me, yes, but when Adora gets angry she’ll stop at nothing.”  
  
“Serves you right for--”  
  
“Nancy!” Annie shrieked from upstairs, Matthew jumping in his skin; the twins, however, were used to it. “Get up here  _right now_!”  
  
Nancy bolted towards the stairs faster than she ever had. After a few seconds, Matthew and Dominic could hear muffled shouting that soon subsided into murmurs. The Voix wrapped his arms around Dominic, pulling him close.  
  
“I love you too,” Dominic said eventually, resting his head on Matthew’s shoulder. A sick feeling still resided in his stomach, but he tried his best to ignore it. They were both consciously aware of the envelope on the table, and they were wondering just how soon they’d have to open it.  
  
After a few moments, Nancy came bounding down the stairs again, a packed holdall in the crook of her arm. She threw it down near the front door, running over to Dominic and tackling him into a hug, Matthew only just dodging out of the way in time.  
  
“Nicky, I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing him tight enough that he started coughing. “I’m so sorry, Nicky. I love you so much, I didn’t mean to be so cruel, I--”  
  
Realising she was babbling, Nancy let Dominic sit up on the sofa again, sitting down next to him. Matthew kept a distance between himself and the twin. “Mum says I should go. I’m going to stay around Ben’s for a while. I might... I might visit tomorrow... if... if it’s safe.”  
  
Nancy’s voice cracked on the final word, Dominic rubbing her back as they hugged. She stood up, casting an eye over Matthew. “And you... you’re the cause of all this,” she sneered.  
  
“Nancy!” Annie shouted from upstairs once more. “Don’t make me--”  
  
“Fine, fine!” Nancy yelled back, stomping over to the door. “I’m going,” she said, turning back towards the terrified men on the sofa. “But you have to accept some responsibility for your actions.  _Both_  of you. I told you this would end in tears.”  
  
Nancy stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Matthew looked at Dominic, silently asking for an explanation.  
  
“I... I don’t know,” Dominic whispered, suddenly feeling incredibly hollow. Wordlessly, Matthew closed the gap between them and pressed a kiss against the blond’s cheek, wrapping his arms around his waist.  
  
The sky clouded over outside and Annie turned on a few of the lamps around the house. Matthew and Dominic didn’t talk much, if they did at all. Musings over the contents of the envelope, a few declarations of love, small talk about Ben and Nancy.  
  
They didn’t dare broach the subject of the next day’s paper.  
  
“You’re so quiet,” Dominic said. His voice was so gentle that Matthew almost failed to hear it. “I...” he frowned, pressing his lips to Matthew’s head, burying his nose deep in his black hair. “I can feel your sadness,” he mumbled, testing the words in his mouth. “I can feel how heavy it is, in my heart.”  
  
“When I was small,” Matthew began, jolted into his words by Dominic’s declaration, “maybe five or six, my mother used to tell me a story before bed. It was my favourite story because it made me so sad.” A smile tilted his lips at the corners. “It sounds strange, but it’s true.”  
  
“What was it about?”  
  
Matthew paused for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was trembling. “Once upon a time there was a Voix. She was the most beautiful Voix in all the world, and she had admirers from all over St Pierre. One day she met a glouglou, and he fell hopelessly in love with her because she was so beautiful.”  
  
“Bit shallow,” Dominic remarked. Matthew elbowed him in the side.  
  
“Shut up. It gets relevant.” Matthew cleared his throat. “She was so beautiful, but she didn’t have eyes for any of her suitors. For she was already in love... with that glouglou.”  
  
Dominic cast his eyes down, swallowing. Matthew hummed. “Yeah. It’s sad. It’s supposed to warn Voix off falling for glouglous.”  
  
“Didn’t quite work, did it?” Dominic mumbled into Matthew’s hair, the Voix sighing as he continued. “The Voix lady and the glouglou man saw each other in secret, until one of her suitors spied them one night as they kissed goodbye. He was furious, as he had been so sure he was to marry her. His jealousy engulfed him so much that he became enraged, and stormed after her. He pulled a dagger and he--”  
  
Matthew winced, curling into Dominic slightly. “This perhaps isn’t the best story to be telling, all things considered,” he mumbled. “I should’ve chosen a happier one to lighten the mood.”  
  
“What happened?” Dominic asked. Their eyes met; the glouglou’s were shining with curiousity and a hint of fear.  
  
“The man turned, then, leaving her corpse and chasing after the glouglou. He stormed into his shack and found him collapsed on the floor. Dead.” Matthew swallowed. “He died of a broken heart.”  
  
Dominic’s brow furrowed. “What? I don’t--”  
  
“They say when a glouglou and a Voix are in love, the glouglou changes. They don’t become a Voix, heaven forbid, but--  _ow_ ,” Matthew whined as Dominic had poked him in the side. “Sorry, sorry! Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing his ribs. “They don’t become a Voix,  _sadly_ ,” he drawled as Dominic smiled a small smile beside him, “but they begin to become more perceptive of the world around them. They can apparently sense and feel the emotions of others, and sometimes it affects their own emotions.”  
  
“That night,” Dominic started. “The night we fought, and I... you... I walked into your room and I had felt so angry, so suddenly. I’d arrived to just see you and hold you! I guess, maybe... if what you’re saying isn’t just some Voixlore bullshit--”  
  
“Hey, easy.”  
  
“--then maybe when I walked into the room, I walked into a wall of your anger and hatred, that had been stewing there for days on end.”  
  
Matthew paused, pursing his lips. “That would explain a lot. You didn’t really have any reason to be angry with me.”  
  
“And Nancy’s problems with Ben... it wasn’t even a twin thing, it was just... will this last forever? This perception thing?”  
  
Matthew shrugged, laughing. “Just because I love a glouglou doesn’t mean I’m a sudden expert on them. Although, maybe it’d be worth talking to Lysander at some point,” he said, words dipping quieter as he realised they might not speak to him ever again. “When this whole mess is behind us,” he whispered, curling into Dominic’s side once more.  
  
After dinner was served (this time, neither had the stomach to eat, even after Annie reminded Matthew that he needed to have a good meal before he faded away), Annie sat at the table with them both, helping to clean Matthew’s wounds again. Dominic was given the task of unwinding the taut bandaging around Matthew’s stomach, the glouglous sighing with relief when the bruising had reduced by large amounts overnight. Annie instructed Dominic to not reapply the bandage, but to just cover it with one of her remedies as she began to shrug on a jacket.  
  
“Mum, where are you going?” Dominic said, eyes on his mother as he rolled up the used cloth and dropped it on the table. She’d been quiet most of the evening, as they all had.  
  
“Out,” she said, and it was evident that she was trying her hardest to be strong. “My friend Mary, she... knows something’s not right. I didn’t tell her, and she wouldn’t tell... she’s got too many secrets of her own. But she’s got a bottle of whiskey stashed away and I’ve got an open invitation, so I thought I’d...”  
  
The sentiment pressing heavily against Annie’s unfinished sentence was enough. When not one of them knew if they’d still be alive in twenty-four hours, how else could they spend what might be their last night on earth?  
  
She had one hand on the handle when Matthew spoke up. “Thank you,” he whispered, and in the silence his words carried across the room as if borne on an invisible wind. “For everything.”  
  
Annie turned back and gave a slight nod, before leaving them in peace, pulling the door shut behind her.


	35. captivé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew and Dominic share what they believe could be their last night on earth...

The sun had come back out, and the light was only just beginning to fade from the sky when Matthew started to doze gently in Dominic’s arms. They were sitting on the sofa again, bundled up in an old woollen blanket that had definitely seen better days. Dominic, who had been staring at the wall and imagining a world where it wasn’t against the law to fall in love, let a smile drift to his lips as he heard the comforting, heavy breaths.  
  
He sighed, gently extracting himself from Matthew’s embrace and standing up, only to bend down and pick the sleeping Voix from the sofa. One arm hooked under his knees and the other holding his back, he began a slow journey up to his bedroom, taking care not to shake Matthew from his slumber.  
  
Laying him flat on his bed, Dominic crawled onto it beside him, brushing a strand of midnight black hair from his eyes. He looked older now; where the blond had always made him appear innocent, still locked in his teenage years, the black gave him strength in the face of vulnerability. Dominic wasn’t quite used to the new appearance - that wasn’t to say he didn’t like it.  
  
As he rolled onto his back, he felt Matthew stir beside him, pushing himself up onto his elbow. “How long have I been asleep?” he mumbled.  
  
“‘Bout fifteen minutes,” Dominic replied, smiling as Matthew laid his head on his chest.  
  
“What’s the time?”  
  
“Nearly eight o’clock.”  
  
Matthew hummed softly, his index finger tracing patterns over Dominic’s shirt. “Is Nancy going to come back tonight, do you think?”  
  
“Probably not. She went to Ben’s.”  
  
“And your mother is out.” Matthew was smiling now. He hooked a leg over Dominic’s body, lips dangerously close to his ear. “So we’re alone.”  
  
“What are you suggesting?” Dominic asked innocently, ringing his arms around Matthew’s waist.  
  
“I’m suggesting,” Matthew breathed, softly kissing the corner of Dominic’s mouth, “that this could be our last night together.”  
  
“Way to lighten the mood,” Dominic said unsurely.  
  
“Stop it, Dom. Stop thinking about tomorrow. Just think about  _now_. Think about you and me, ’cause we’re all that matters in this room.”  
  
Dominic swallowed as Matthew began to press kisses to his neck, leaning his head back to allow more room. “Matthew,” he breathed.  
  
“Matt. You can call me Matt.”  
  
Glouglou and Voix smiled, their lips fusing as Matthew’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of Dominic’s t-shirt, splaying out across his flat stomach. “You’re so perfect,” the Voix whispered. “So beautiful. Let me see you,” he commanded softly, guiding Dominic’s t-shirt up his torso. Without hesitation, Dominic straightened his arms above his head, letting the t-shirt be pulled from his skin. Dominic returned the favour, peeling his own jumper away from Matthew’s body, tracing the dark blush of bruising that remained on Matthew’s stomach.  
  
His fingers trailed upwards, skimming along Matthew’s sternum and causing the Voix to suck in a wavering breath. Light bruises remained on his neck from Agostino’s chokehold, raised cuts and tiny scabs littered Matthew’s jaw line and cheeks. His nose looked as normal as it ever had, though, and Dominic pressed a fleeting kiss to the end of it. The only sound in the room was that of Matthew’s shaky breathing below him.  
  
“You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” Dominic mumbled, pressing a kiss to each of Matthew’s eyelids as they fell shut on a soft sigh. His hand trailed down towards Matthew’s protruding hip bone, the other cupping Matthew’s cheek, bringing his face closer. Their lips met again, Matthew’s fingers straying along the line of soft hair leading towards the waistband of Dominic’s jeans. His hips bucked involuntarily.  
  
“Eager, much?” Matthew asked, but it wasn’t teasing. They were both aware of the time that had passed since their last coupling, the want and need now so potent in their bodies. Matthew broke out of the kiss to sit up on the bed, Dominic whimpering at the loss but quieting down again when he saw where Matthew was headed. His nimble fingers easily undid Dominic’s belt, button and fly, slowly but surely tugging his jeans down his legs until they were cast upon the floor.  
  
Matthew crawled up the bed again to Dominic’s hips, glancing at the outline of his cock in his boxers, a tiny damp spot at the end of it. He held out his hand, letting it hover just above Dominic’s crotch but not allowing contact, even when Dominic rolled his hips upwards.  
  
“Matthew, please,” Dominic whined. Their eyes met, both gazes filled with lust. “Please, Matthew. I need you. More than anything.”  
  
“I...” Matthew didn’t know what to say. He felt almost choked up; he’d always presumed being loved and being needed were unanimous with each other, but now, his heart tugged in his chest and a crescendo of emotions crashed over him. Before he could reply, though, Dominic was babbling again.  
  
“Please,” Dominic said. Matthew’s hand had fallen slightly in his lapse of concentration, and Dominic was shamelessly rubbing himself against it, desperate for friction. “I want you to top.”  
  
“To... to what?” Matthew asked, unsure of what he meant, exactly. His face came close to Dominic’s, hands falling away from his body and for a moment the glouglou forgot he was meant to reply.  
  
As Dominic exhaled, Matthew inhaled. They shared the same air, staring into each other’s eyes as if this was their first time all over again. Their parted lips were a hair’s breadth away from touching, yet at no point on their bodies did their skin touch one another’s. All that connected them was their gaze and quickening breathing.  
  
“ _Je veux que tu fasses l’amour avec moi_ ,” Dominic slowly breathed, licking his lips almost immediately.  
  
It was the single most erotic experience Matthew had ever had.  
  
They met in a sloppy kiss, tongues desperate to explore everywhere all at once. Dominic’s hands threaded into Matthew’s hair momentarily and the Voix’s hand slipped down the tanned body before him; their kiss was broken as Dominic moaned loudly, Matthew gripping him through his boxers.  
  
“M-Matthew,” Dominic stuttered, releasing Matthew’s hair and pushing him by the shoulders. He got the hint; he crawled off the side of the bed, standing to pull down the (far too long) jeans he’d borrowed and taking the boxers off in one go. He turned when he heard a gasp from the bed.  
  
Dominic was unashamedly staring at Matthew, bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun and looking nothing less than a god. The sunlight highlighted prominent bones and muscles, shadows falling under his cheekbones and in the slight dents of his ribs.  
  
“ _Quoi_?” Matthew breathed shyly, but the word echoed around the room. Dominic exhaled shakily, the fingers of his left hand vaguely brushing his nipple before trailing down his body. Matthew struggled to keep his eyes off them.  
  
“You don’t realise how beautiful you are, do you?” Dominic asked quietly, Matthew shaking his head slowly, scattering the shadows on his face.  
  
“You’re the beautiful one,” he whispered in kind, kneeling back down at the foot of the bed and reaching for Dominic’s hips. As his cool fingers brushed the heated skin there, Dominic let out a tiny whimper. “I’m designed to be beautiful,” he continued, picking the elastic between his fingers and drawing it down, over the top of Dominic’s hard cock and slowly down his thighs. He sighed. “I see it as a flaw. You... you’re...”  
  
Matthew let Dominic’s boxers fall to the floor, sitting back on his heels and watching Dominic recline on the bed, his left hand gifting his cock with feather light touches. Amber sunlight landed in his hair, making it look almost golden.  
  
“And you dared to say I was beautiful,” Matthew whispered, crawling back up Dominic’s body. He sat astride Dominic’s thighs, their cocks pressed together as Matthew lowered himself down to whisper in the glouglou’s ear. “Such blasphemy.”  
  
Dominic’s eyes had fallen shut, head tipped back into the warm sunlight and lips parted. Matthew rolled his hips, Dominic’s eyes squeezing closed and a deep moan emanating from his chest. His hands found Matthew’s waist, sliding up and down the smooth skin there, calloused hands exploring.  
  
“Now,” Dominic whispered, finally opening his eyes and looking at Matthew. Matthew, with black hair plastered to his forehead, with swollen red lips and electric blue eyes.  
  
His Matthew.  
  
“Where’s that... um...” Matthew asked, sitting back on Dominic’s thighs but his hands tracing patterns across the tan chest below him. Following lines of muscle, the curve of his ribs, a vein travelling towards his groin. Dominic reached for the drawer of his bedside table, cock twitching as Matthew’s fingers got close to the curly hairs at the base of it.  
  
“Here,” he rasped, placing a small tube on his chest. Matthew suspended it between two slender fingers, and suddenly he transformed. He was the scared Voix Dominic once found asleep in his office, he was the frightened Unique-to-be who kissed Dominic and then cried himself to exhaustion, he was the man who had come running to Dominic the morning after he lost his virginity.  
  
Dominic realised something, as he reached up and touched Matthew’s face, giving him a gentle smile of encouragement. He realised that Matthew was losing his virginity all over again.  
  
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Matthew admitted sheepishly, shifting so he was sat between Dominic’s legs instead of on top of them.  
  
Dominic took Matthew’s right hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he pulled it towards his chest. He took the lube back from Matthew, popping the cap and squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. “It’s okay,” Dominic whispered, setting the tube aside. “I’m nervous too.”  
  
Matthew smiled, taking a deep breath and awaiting further instructions. “Just... well, you can’t really go wrong. You’re not going to hurt me... not with something that size, anyway,” Dominic smirked, letting his head fall back into the pillows as his left hand found his cock again.  
  
“You glouglous seem to have such a way with words,” Matthew nervously joked, pressing his finger against the skin just above Dominic’s entrance. The glouglou hissed and writhed slightly.  
  
“I’ll teach you my wicked ways,” Dominic mumbled, Matthew’s finger trailing downwards. He pressed the very tip of it into Dominic, instantly becoming addicted to the breathy noise he made. Matthew wanted to hear more of it, so he inched deeper.  
  
“I think you already have,” he murmured, sliding his finger in until it couldn’t go further. Dominic shifted slightly, trying to move Matthew’s finger inside him.  
  
“The point of...  _oh!_ Yes, sweet fuck that’s where it is,” Dominic babbled, pressing himself against Matthew’s hand. “Is to stretch me,” he continued, his hand moving in time with his downward thrusts. Matthew took the hint, curling his finger upwards against a bundle of nerves. “ _Fuck!_ ” Dominic groaned, Matthew repeating the action. “Another...”  
  
Matthew was learning fast. He complied to Dominic’s request, adding a second finger and smiling as Dominic began to pant. His thighs trembled around Matthew, right hand fisting in the bedsheets. “Matthew, please, I...”  
  
Matthew spread his fingers once more and then withdrew them, Dominic whining at the empty sensation but still twitching at the thought of more to come. Smearing the remaining lube on his hand over his cock, Matthew gave it a few tugs and almost let himself get carried away, before he saw Dominic before him, mumbling profanities and begging for release. He lined himself up, shifting closer on his knees.  
  
“You ready?” he asked Dominic, the glouglou lifting his head and giving him a broad smile.  
  
“Always.”  
  
Matthew pressed forward, a cry erupting from Dominic’s lips. He was almost ready to pull out again, afraid that he was hurting him once more, but Dominic’s heels digging into his back drove him on. Slowly but surely, he pushed all the way in, Dominic’s constant moan on the very borderline of pleasure and pain.  
  
Dominic’s legs wrapped around Matthew’s waist, trapping him for a few perfectly still moments. The sunlight caught the droplets of sweat on both men’s skin, shining its final rays on Dominic’s face as he smiled up at Matthew. The Voix leaned down, supporting his weight on his arms as their lips met for the first time in too many minutes.  
  
After a few wet and lazy kisses were exchanged, Dominic’s legs loosened slightly from around Matthew’s waist. He gave a small nod, the Voix pulling out and pushing back in slightly.  
  
“Oh,  _fuck_ ,” Dominic moaned loudly, and Matthew thanked the heavens that they were the only ones in the house. Although, Dominic’s neighbours may have complaints the next day.  
  
The next day. Matthew shook the thought out of his head, watching the tendons in Dominic’s neck dance as he threw his head back. He repeated the thrusting action, quickly finding a rhythm that both suited them.  
  
“It’s good, isn’t it,” Matthew murmured, pressing a kiss against Dominic’s neck and letting his teeth gaze the salty skin there.  
  
“Nowhere close,” the glouglou whispered, Matthew pulling back to see Dominic grin. He took Matthew’s face in his hands, running his hands through his hair. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated once more.  
  
Matthew’s hips sped up slightly and he swallowed, shaking his head loosely in his hold. “No, you’re...”  
  
He let his sentence hang when Dominic screamed, Matthew’s hips having shifted right slightly as he drove inwards. “Oh my God, Matthew, I’m so close,” Dominic rushed to say, his hands gripping Matthew’s shoulders, fingernails digging in but neither of them cared.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Matthew whispered reverently. “ _En ta beauté gît ma mort et ma vie_ ,” he said, watching as Dominic’s eyes flew open in recognition.  
  
“What... what does that mean,” Dominic asked, his breathing becoming erratic. Every time Matthew drove into him, he let out a yelp of pleasure, each becoming louder and higher as they neared climax. Matthew took one of Dominic’s hands from his waist, linking their fingers and pressing it down against the bed before he lost balance.  
  
“It means...”  
  
Matthew’s hips started to lose their rhythm, but Dominic was even closer, pulling at his own cock with sloppy tugs. “Tell me!” he almost screamed, needing Matthew to push him over the edge.  
  
The Voix leaned down to whisper in Dominic’s ear.  
  
“In your beauty lies my life and death.”  
  
Dominic whimpered, eyes screwing shut as he came between their bodies, heels digging against Matthew’s back as the Voix rode out his own orgasm, pressed into Dominic as deep as he could be. They panted heavily, the lack of noise in the room suddenly roaring between them.  
  
After a few moments, Matthew straightened up, pulling out slowly and wincing slightly at Dominic’s hiss. He collapsed back onto the bed next to Dominic, who had produced a wad of tissues. He began delicately wiping away his come from Matthew’s stomach, the Voix propped on one elbow and watching him work. He eventually found his tongue.  
  
“In your beauty lies my life and death,” he repeated, Dominic stopping what he was doing to look into Matthew’s eyes. After a second, he hastily scrubbed the come off his own stomach before throwing the dirty tissues on the floor.  
  
“I don’t agree with the beauty part, but...” Dominic said, giving Matthew a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. They shifted closer together, kissing with closed mouths and delicate pecks, hands stroking and caressing skin in case they never had another opportunity to do so.  
  
“I love you, Matthew,” Dominic said, watching Matthew’s lips twitch into a smile.  
  
“I love you too, but I told you to call me Matt,” Matthew said, almost back to his old stubborn self. Dominic’s smile was genuine this time.  
  
“I like the way Matthew sounds,” he said, reaching over the side of the bed and pulling up the blankets from where they had fallen, covering them both.  
  
“I don’t deserve Matthew anymore. I’m more of a glouglou than a Voix, now,” he whispered, Dominic pulling him close. He twisted, becoming the little spoon as Dominic held him tight.  
  
“Does that matter to you?” Dominic asked, pressing his nose into Matthew’s hair.  
  
“No,” he was quick to reply. “I like it. Means I’m more like you.”  
  
Dominic swallowed at the lump in his throat. As their post-orgasm haze faded away with the remaining sunlight, the implications of tomorrow caught up with him. “You’re my glouglou,” he said, pressing a kiss into Matthew’s hair.  
  
Matthew’s voice was quiet when he replied. Dominic’s pause had left him feeling sombre, too. “I am,” he said, almost proudly, tucking himself back against Dominic’s warm body.  
  
“Get some sleep,” Dominic whispered in his ear. “Big day tomorrow.”  
  
“You make it sound almost fun,” Matthew replied sourly. They both smiled, Matthew turning his head for one final goodnight kiss.  
  
After all, it might be the last chance they had.


	36. fin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I knew the pathway like the back of my hand..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some gore, weapon-induced violence, and death.

The first streaks of sunlight were just beginning to fall across the pair, limbs entangled and encased in the blankets, when Nancy burst into the room.  
  
“I should’ve guessed,” she said, rolling her eyes. Dominic sat bolt upright in bed, clutching the sheet to his chest. “Alright Nicky, nothing I’ve seen before, but Sleeping Beauty there might want to cover himself up. If that sheet slips down any more...”  
  
Nancy began flitting about the room and house, as Dominic gently shook Matthew awake. He leant over the side of the bed, putting his boxers on underneath the sheets as Nancy finally returned.  
  
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” she asked, hands on her hips in the doorway with a packed rucksack at her feet.  
  
“Is there actually good news?” Matthew asked.  
  
“You’re learning fast,” she said quietly. “Nothing’s ever good news for us. Well, the good news is that I’ve got a rucksack here full of water, food, a first aid kit and today’s paper.”  
  
“How bad’s the damage, then?” Dominic asked. Nancy’s face fell, and that was all the answer he needed.  
  
“Not only did she rat out that Matthew’s seeing a glouglou, she also named it as you, Dom,” she said, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I’ll go, but you two need to get a move on. They’re a bit uneasy down at the market, and even they’re fairly open-minded people... the envelope’s on the kitchen table.”  
  
Nancy left, then, and Matthew and Dominic sprang into action. They got dressed in record time, not saying a word as they picked up the bag and ran downstairs. The sun was just starting to shine properly as they sat down at the table, Dominic instantly reaching for the envelope as Matthew tapped nervously at the worn wood.  
  
“Here goes nothing,” Dominic said, ripping it open. A rusted metal key fell to the table with a clunk as he pulled out a handwritten letter.  
  
 _Matthew + Dom,_  
  
 _If you’re reading this, I’m sorry that the shit’s hit the fan. But you need to act fast now to save your lives._  
  
 _This is a key to a cottage that I acquired some years ago. It’s north of St Pierre; close enough should you ever wish to return but far enough for you to be safe. You’ll have to live off the land a bit, but you’ll manage. It was going to be my own hideout, so I know there’s all the things you need there._  
  
 _On the other sheet of paper are some vague directions; half in English, half in French. If you’re both alive you should have no worries navigating, and even if something happens to either of you, you’ll work it out eventually. I want you to burn this letter and take those directions with you; no one should be able to decipher them._  
  
 _Best of luck, and remember: if it gets really bad, at least give ‘em a good show._  
  
 _It was an honour,_  
  
 _Lysander._  
  
Dominic finished reading aloud and stood up, walking over to the hearth. Wordlessly, he picked up a box of matches and struck one, holding it to the very corner of the letter. It went up and crumbled to ash in seconds.  
  
Matthew was clutching the directions in shaking hands. “Even you’ll be able to read these, Dom. It’s simple,” he said, ignoring Dominic’s flash of a smirk at Matthew’s phrasing. “It’s quite a way, though. We should make a start if we want to get there by dark.”  
  
“Come on, then,” Dominic said. Matthew put the directions in his pocket, picking up the ribbon tied to the key and putting it on as a necklace. He tucked the key down his front. “Ready?” Dominic asked.  
  
Matthew nodded, pulling Dominic close into a frantic kiss. They could hear shouting outside the door and suddenly Annie and Nancy burst into the house, the men leaping apart.  
  
“They’re getting angry out there,” Annie said, panting slightly. “They know you’re in here, Matt. Put the hood of your jacket up.” He did as he was told, not even noticing the nickname Annie had called him by. “What was in the envelope?”  
  
“A key. To a cottage,” Dom said, looking between his mother and his sister. “I don’t think we’ll be back for a while,” he said solemnly, reaching across and taking Matthew’s hand.  
  
“Where are you going?” Nancy said slowly, taking a step closer to her brother.  
  
“If I told you, I would honestly and truly have to kill you. For your own good. We have to go, okay?”  
  
Nancy’s eyes began to slowly fill with tears. She blinked them away abruptly, taking a shuddering breath. “Will you...” she paused, shaking her head. “Will you please come back?”  
  
“It depends,” Dom replied simply with a shrug of his shoulders. “I love you, Nanners.”  
  
“You’re so gay,” Nancy whispered, throwing her arms around her twin’s waist and burying her face in his shoulder. Dominic dropped Matthew’s hand, holding her tightly in his embrace. “Love you too, Nicky.”  
  
Dominic pulled back, giving her a gentle pat on the cheek. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said.  
  
“What, okay, so... so basically I can do whatever the hell I want because nothing’s as horrifyingly twisted as you and a Voix,” Nancy quipped, but she was smiling. She turned to Matthew, and her smile began to fade. “If you don’t look after my twin, I’ll personally ensure that it’s at my hand you cease to breathe... although, I’m about to save your life. You do realise this, don’t you?”  
  
“Yes, and I’m eternally grateful,” Matthew said quickly, stepping forwards. “In light of recent events, I... I suggest we should put all of the negative energy around us somewhere, and reconcile in the face of all this upheaval.” He held out a hand, eyes wide and begging.  
  
Nancy pressed her lips to a flat line. “Are you serious?” she said. “We do  _not_ have time for this shit.”  
  
And she promptly marched outside.  
  
As the door slammed shut, they heard an ear-piercing scream. “The little cunt ran in that direction!” they heard Nancy yell, Annie shaking her head at such language. As her voice moved away and got quieter, they heard a shout of “I call the first blood!” before it fell silent.  
  
Matthew was very pale, even by Voix standards. Knowing Nancy, said ‘acting’ could be completely real and true.  
  
“Well, that was harrowing,” Dominic said, a nervous laugh following his words. “Didn’t know she was that bloodthirsty.” He turned to Matthew, the smile falling from his face as he watched the Voix’s expression flitter, undecided, between horrified and heartbroken. He folded Matthew into his arms, meeting his mother’s eyes as he rested his chin atop a mess of black hair.  
  
Matthew sobbed once, his entire body jerking. “Dom, they... they all hate me,” he said thickly. “They want to kill me. I’m so scared, Dom, please help me...”  
  
“Shh, it’s gonna be okay. We’ve got the cottage. We’re gonna be fine.”  
  
“But we’re not!” Matthew suddenly pushed himself away from the glouglou, tears filling in his eyes. “We’re not gonna be okay!  _Don’t touch me_!” he snapped, as Dominic took a step forward, hand outstretched. “I... I... me and you, we’re gonna run and hide, and then what? Wait a few months? We’ll come back, and everything will have gone to  _shit_! They’ll have killed everyone we know! You didn’t see Paix that night, you didn’t see him, you didn’t see the look on his face. He wanted me  _dead_! And... I don’t know who we can trust, and my father will probably kill my mother and--” he stopped abruptly, a hand flying to his mouth. “Oh, oh, my mother... my...”  
  
He turned and flung himself into Annie’s arms. Alarmed, she stood still for a moment before hugging him as tightly as possible, rubbing one hand over his back. “I don’t know about you,” she said softly, “but I have complete faith in Dom. He’s only a glouglou, but... he loves you, and that should be enough for you to know that he’ll protect you. You have more friends than you think in this awful place. You have me and Lysander and your mother and, even though it doesn’t seem like it, Nancy.” She pulled back slightly, holding his face lightly in her hands. “You wipe those tears off your face, young man, because you don’t half look pathetic when you cry. You’re making me fill up as well.” She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling as Matthew reluctantly smiled back. “And as for all of those out there hating you,” she added, “I don’t think they particularly liked you in the first place, if I’m brutally honest.”  
  
“Oh.” Matthew frowned. “But...”  
  
He looked thoroughly put-out at this apparent revelation, and Dominic couldn’t help but grin as he slung the backpack over his shoulder and stepped closer to Matthew. “C’mon, Matt. We should go before somebody else turns up.”  
  
Matthew nodded resolutely, gave Annie another brief hug and walked towards the door, leaving Annie and Dominic to share a glance.  
  
“Good luck with him. He’s a ball of pent-up emotions. Worse than your sister,” Annie said in a low voice. “Have you got the dagger? Just in case, I mean.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ve got it. Mum--” Dominic started, but Annie held up a hand.  
  
“Don’t start saying goodbye to me, Dominic, because I’ll cry and I don’t want to cry,” she said.  
  
Dominic shifted from foot to foot for a moment. “I don’t want to go,” he said in a small voice. “I’m scared I’m gonna lose him.”  
  
“Sweetheart, I love you dearly, but you have to stop being such a bloody sap and man up. It’s what your dad would have wanted from you.” Wordlessly, Dominic’s mother held out her arms, laughing as her son ran into her embrace like a frightened child.  
  
“I love you, Mum,” Dominic said, begging himself not to cry, begging himself to stay strong for all the people who needed him to.  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
“I’ll see you soon,” Dominic looked up, a promise shining in his eyes.  
  
“Yes. That’s better. See you soon.” Annie smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “See you soon, too.”  
  
Dominic walked towards the door, resisting the urge to latch his hand onto Matthew’s as they stepped out into the street.  
  
“Which way?” Matthew asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
  
Dominic looked back for only a moment, to see his mother leaning against the doorframe. She nodded subtly, pointing left up the street, and gave him a wink.  
  
“That way,” Dominic said, starting up the street at a pace that had Matthew jogging to keep up with. “We need to get out of the city, but the main way northwards goes through our Sector’s marketplace... not a smart move,” he explained as they came to the crest of a small hill. “We need to get out while avoiding the--”  
  
Dominic ground to a halt. Dozens of people were milling about in the street, and he heard his and Matthew’s names float on the tide of the conversation. This road was normally deserted, but for some reason the whole population of St Pierre had decided to take to the streets.  
  
“...crowds,” Dominic whispered, finishing his sentence. Matthew shied behind him slightly as a tall and muscular glouglou turned towards them.  
  
“There they are!” he shouted, and he didn’t sound too pleased to see them at all.  
  
“ _Run_.”  
  
Matthew didn’t need telling twice. They both took off down the street they came along, Dominic taking the lead and guiding Matthew down a series of alleyways. They dodged washing lines and narrowly avoided bins toppled in their paths by kids, but soon they became breathless. Matthew almost collapsed up against a dank wall, the bruising on his stomach still affecting his breathing somewhat.  
  
“Okay, so...” Dominic panted, “I may have... underestimated...”  
  
He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Matthew shot him a look that said everything. Suddenly, two men rounded the corner of their alley.  
  
“The star of the show,” one of them sneered, cracking his knuckles slightly. “How dare you brainwash one of ours?”  
  
Dominic shot a confused glance at Matthew, but only for a brief second. Neither of them saw that coming. Matthew opened his mouth to reply, but the second man was looming over him, fist already connecting with his jaw.  
  
“Leave him alone!” Dominic screamed, shoving hard at the first and largest man. He made a confused sound, pinning Dominic back against the wall.  
  
“I’m doing this for your own good, lad!” he said, exasperation in his tone. Dominic kicked out at his captor as Matthew wheezed on the cobbles, the second man about to lay another blow into him. “He’s got you trapped! You can’t see what he’s doing to you!”  
  
Dominic spat in the man’s face, using the moment of confusion to knee him in the balls and shove him aside. Without thinking, blinking or even breathing, he drew his dagger from his scabbard and plunged it into the back of the second man’s neck.  
  
He made a gurgling sound, then promptly crumpled onto the cobbles next to Matthew. The Voix yelped, scuttling backwards until he was standing again. He spat blood onto the floor, rubbing at the side of his neck where the attacker had been pressing his heavy boot.  
  
“You killed him,” Matthew said quietly, only just looking Dominic in the eyes before looking at the corpse again. The first man groaned, still on the floor of the alley. Dominic turned.  
  
“Don’t you fucking  _dare_  try anything,” Dominic said, his voice cold and detached. He flicked his wrist, the blood from the dagger flung to the floor. “Run.”  
  
And the attacker did just that. Matthew backed away slightly as Dominic approached him.  
  
“You killed him,” Matthew repeated.  
  
“No shit,” Dominic whispered, the realisation only just sinking in. He wiped both sides of the blade on his dark sleeve, before sliding it back into the scabbard strapped to his thigh. “We need to move.”  
  
“Dom--”  
  
“Matthew,  _please_ ,” Dominic said, his eyes begging. “People will die, Matthew. It’s us or them. It might not be as easy for you to see, seeing as you’re biologically more adept to the whole  _staying alive_  thing but I acted on the moment. He was going to crush your neck, and there’s no fucking chance in Hell that you would’ve survived that.”  
  
Matthew’s eyes shone with fear, but that was soon replaced with a steely determination, lips pressed into a flat line. In seconds, it was as if he had aged by years. “You’re right. We need to keep moving.”  
  
As those words echoed in the quiet alley, a loud shout boomed from the end of it. Without a moment’s thought, they turned and fled.  
  
Dominic’s heartbeat was erratic, breaths stinging the back of his throat as he ran. As he jumped to avoid a loose paving slab, the backpack slid from his shoulders; he only just managed to grab it in the tips of his fingers. He glanced over to see Matthew running just slightly behind him, terror clear in his expression. As he turned back, he heard Matthew trip and fall, yelping in pain, but as he slowed down to look around, Matthew gasped out for him to keep going, that he was okay.  
  
Doubtfully, Dominic slowed to a jog, chancing a peek over his shoulder to see Matthew heave himself up from the ground. There was a tear in the knee of his trousers, through which Dominic could see a graze.  
  
‘Don’t wait for me,’ Matthew snapped, breaking into a jog. ‘I told you to  _run_.’  
  
Matthew was soon sprinting straight past Dominic, the glouglou smiling despite everything and increasing his speed slightly to catch up. The backpack was becoming a nuisance; he flung it aside, regretting it almost instantly as he remembered its contents, but they couldn’t afford to turn back now. Suddenly, they rounded a corner and ran into six feet of muscle.  
  
Of Voix.  
  
“Matthew,” the man said. Dominic didn’t recognise him, but that problem soon disappeared.  
  
“Aleksandr,” he panted. A lightbulb flickered on in Dominic’s head; Matthew had mentioned him as his best friend, long ago in a tedious rehearsal session in the Bellamy mansion.

Oh, how things had changed.

“What are you doing with that cassé?” Aleksandr asked calmly, as if he was asking what the weather was like. He stretched a hand to Matthew. “Come home, Matthew. You know your place.”

Matthew stepped back from the offering. “My place is here, at Dominic’s side,” he hissed, Aleksandr flinching at the statement.

“If I kill the glouglou, will it rid you of this curse?” Aleksandr seemed confused as to why Matthew would do such a thing; as if it was simply Dominic’s presence poisoning his better judgement.

“Over my dead body,” Matthew stated calmly. Aleksandr stiffened up, standing at his full height. With three years age difference, the older Voix had at least half a foot on Matthew.

“So be it,” Aleksandr said, lunging forward with his arms outstretched. Matthew pushed Dominic away harshly, the glouglou tripping as he became unbalanced and smacking into the nearby wall. Pain flared up towards his shoulder, but the scene unfolding before him was captivating.

It was little surprise why glouglous rarely managed to kill a Voix; they normally didn’t know how to. When Dominic had beaten up Lysander, the Voix had hardly put up a fight; it was as if he was expecting it to happen and knew he deserved it. Dominic hadn’t planned on killing Lysander, either. Now, though, he was watching two Voix fight, presumably, to the death.

There were significant differences, which made it look almost like an art form. Punches were rare, and any blows given were more focussed around the face and neck. It was less about trying to injure your partner, and more about a battle for dominance, to serve the final blow.

Dominic knew that he would be useless killing a Voix, now. It was instinctive to them.

But when Matthew was suddenly pinned against the ground, Aleksandr’s hands around his throat, he couldn’t just sit and watch.

He bolted forward, using his good shoulder to pummel into Aleksandr with all his might. He knocked the Voix off balance, but was caught by the scruff of his shirt before he could escape.

“Dominic, no!” Matthew screamed as Aleksandr and Dom’s eyes met. Aleksandr’s hand slipped around his throat and Dominic gasped for air, the grip increasing. He felt a strange pressure against his thigh, and an angry shout from Matthew.

Aleksandr’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, the grip around Dominic’s throat loosening as he pushed the Voix away. He and Matthew scrambled to their feet and against the wall, watching Aleksandr’s body crumple to the ground, blood pouring from his throat.

The scene was silent for a few moments, before the dagger clattered to the floor from Matthew’s fingers.

“I hope you never have to do that,” Matthew said shakily, once again sounding far wiser than his years. Dominic knelt to the floor, picking up the dagger and wiping yet another person’s blood on his sleeve. “Kill your best friend, I mean.”

“If Nancy ever decides to put her hatred for you into action, then God help us all,” Dominic said, trying to lift the tension. Matthew glared at him, almost managing to hide the fact that he was on the brink of tears.

“I’m kidding,” Dominic said, pecking Matthew’s lips. He was trembling as Dominic put the dagger back into its scabbard. “Come on, Matt. We’re close. Just a couple more streets and we’ll be okay.”

“I could’ve just wounded him,” Matthew whispered, still staring at Aleksandr’s lifeless body. “Just given him something to hurt him, but not to kill him. Something he would’ve recovered from.”

Dominic stepped into Matthew’s line of vision, looking him in the eyes. “Matthew.”

That was all he needed to say. The Voix sniffed once before nodding, pressing a fleeting kiss to Dominic’s lips before they carried on down the alleyway. “This exit should be clear, then it’s just over the crest of the hill into the countryside.”

When they emerged into the next street though, they were trapped. As soon as they realised and turned back to run, glouglous had blocked off their exit. The crowd moved, pressing them back against a wall. Angry shouts flared up around them; alarmingly, people were not simply demanding Matthew’s blood. They wanted the streets to run red with the blood of both Voix and glouglou.

Backs against the wall, Dominic’s shaking hand found Matthew’s. “It was nice, while it lasted,” he whispered, squeezing the trembling hand in his. “Despite everything, I’m glad I met you.”

The noise around them became a crescendo, furious chants and screams. A palpable electricity of rage was in the air, making their knees weak and hearts beat double time. The cloud encroached, and Dominic barely heard Matthew’s reply.

“Me too.”

This was the end of their journey. They wouldn’t get out of this one alive.

Dominic remembered Lysander’s letter: _if it gets really bad, at least give ‘em a good show_.

A glouglou lunged forward towards Matthew, but Dominic quickly stood up from against the wall, pushing the attacker away and shouting loud enough to quieten the crowd.

“No!” he roared, the unsettling silence that followed still thrumming with the undercurrent of revenge. “ _I_ am the one at fault here. _He_ did nothing. If you want your vengeance, you take me and not him.”

“Why not both?” an alarmingly familiar voice suggested, the tone deep with sarcasm and secrecy. Dominic raised his eyes slowly, knowing exactly who it was.

Nancy stood at the front of the crowd, with her arms folded across her chest. There was a knowing smirk on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why don’t you both suffer?” she asked, in a cold and almost detached voice. “Kill the bastard yourself, Dom. Do us all a favour.”

Their eyes met, and Dominic felt that intuitive twinge. It was deeper than the lifelong connection twins shared, but he bit his lip as he knew how much Nancy still hated Matthew. Maybe this was her own personal vendetta; her lesson to Dominic.

Suddenly, Dominic’s earlier joke to Matthew was too real for his liking.

“You have your dagger,” she said, her hand twitching where it was resting in the crook of her elbow. “Just kill him yourself. Go on. Do us all a favour,” she repeated, her thumb moving to stand vertically.

A thumbs up. _Do us all a favour._

Do yourself a favour.

“Fine,” Dominic said, not even attempting to mask the shake in his voice. He turned back to Matthew, whose eyes were wide open, paralysed with fear. He hadn’t understood the deeper meaning of the twins’ conversation. He leant in to whisper to Matthew, allowed a moment of eerie silence to say his last words.

He realised the whole crowd would be able to hear every single uttering.

“Remember that evening,” Dominic said slowly but quietly, knowing that people would be able to hear but trying to be cryptic, “when you tried a cigarette for the first time?”

Matthew simply nodded; he didn’t even look confused for the fright he felt.

“You asked me if it was going to ruin your voice, and I told you to trust me. Remember?”

The Voix nodded again, whimpering as Dominic’s left hand unsheathed the dagger from the scabbard.

“And you did, even though we weren’t anything more than friends, though we were never really that. Do you remember?”

Matthew nodded more surely now, but a tear rolled down his cheek as Dominic pressed the tip of the dagger just above his belly button.

“But it didn’t hurt you, did it? It helped us both, and it made you happy, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Matthew barely whispered, eyes falling shut in anticipation of death.

“Remember that happy feeling,” Dominic breathed, pressing a chaste kiss against Matthew’s lips.

“ _En ta beauté gît ma mort et ma vie_ ,” Matthew whispered, his words barely carrying to Dominic on the slight breeze. Not one of the glouglous surrounding them understood the absolute heartbreak that Dominic suffered as he processed Matthew’s last words.

In Dominic’s beauty he had found his life, and now he would find his death.

“I love you, Matthew,” he murmured, trying not to sob as he saw Matthew screw his eyes shut. The tears were flowing freely down his pale cheeks now, and the numb ache spread through Dominic’s veins as he readjusted his grip on the dagger.

And then Dom killed Matthew Bellamy.

The crowd gasped as Matthew had, falling limp onto the wall Dominic held him up against. Gasps turned to cheers as the audience celebrated the death of the enemy, as Dominic let one sob free, then another. As the noise died down and the people in the street began to filter away, uninterested, Dominic heard himself whispering the same two words over and over again.

_I’m sorry._

There were voices demanding for Matthew’s lifeless body, whoops and jeers and rumours of a funeral pyre, of a revolutionary celebration. Dominic let his left hand fall loose at his side, not even having the mental strength or courage to pull the dagger out of the corpse before him. There was blood on his hand, dripping from his fingers onto the dirt below. Matthew’s blood, soaking into both of their clothes, reminding Dominic of just what he’d done.

“Let him go,” Nancy said quietly. Dominic perked his head up to indicate that he was listening, but his eyes were still transfixed on Matthew’s slowly paling face. “He’s done what you’ve wanted,” she continued, and he realised she was talking to the crowd. “Let him say goodbye in his own way.”

Dominic swallowed hard, forcing his stiff limbs to work. He scooped up Matthew’s limp and light body into his arms, the handle of the dagger, a family heirloom, taunting him in the middle of his vision. The last time he’d carried Matthew, it had been to his bedroom. Now, it couldn’t be more different. As he turned around, the crowd lowered their eyes in respect that should’ve been given much earlier, before he met the eyes of Nancy.

Nancy didn’t look like she knew what was happening anymore. She looked between the blood still oozing from Matthew’s wound, and then up to Dominic’s face. Slowly and carefully, she extended two fingers to where Matthew’s neck was exposed, his head hanging down over Dominic’s arm.

They lingered for five long, excruciating seconds on Matthew’s pulsepoint, before she stuttered to herself. Her eyes had met with Dominic’s one final time, and they were clearly telling him something. Her fingers moved to Matthew’s face, pulling his eyelids down over his vacant eyes. Dominic had given a blow that nobody could survive, not even a Voix.

Dominic was alone.

His feet were heavy as he began to walk up the empty street, tears blurring his vision. The buildings morphed into fields of sunflowers, the sun shining down on him as he continued on into the vast expanse of nothingness.

It was fitting, because that was all he had now.

He remembered the fairytale Matthew had told him only the previous afternoon, when he was alive and breathing and not a corpse in Dominic’s arms. How Dominic would be able to feel and sense the emotions of others because of their romance. Dominic had felt the absolute fear and terror that had been flooding Matthew’s body just before his death, and now all Dominic could feel was those final few seconds of pain, repeating on a loop in his heart.

His numb mind had made one final decision before it had shut itself down, barely allowing him to function beyond the need to walk onwards. He would make it to the cottage, for both of their sakes. He would give Matthew a proper burial in the only place they’d ever be able to call a home. It would be the escape they had been dreaming of.

“Home, Matt,” he sobbed. “Just you and me, finally, a home.”

Dominic released the breath he was holding when, as he should’ve expected, Matthew did not respond.

“We’re going somewhere only we know.”


	37. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go somewhere only we know?"

The man stopped under a shady tree, the midday sun unrelenting across the glorious countryside. Rows upon rows of sunflowers grew tall above his head, and even when he straightened to his full height he couldn’t see above them. He dropped his heavy load onto the dusty ground, wiping the sweat from his forehead and pressing his thumbs into the small of his back, trying to relieve the pain there.  
  
He had come a long way, but he still had a long way to go.  
  
There was a bird singing happily in the tree above him. It almost made him smile, until he heard an entirely different song.  
  
“Oh simple thing, where have you gone?”  
  
It wasn’t sung, but it wasn’t quite whispered. It was recited, almost as a reverent prayer. The man walked around the thick tree trunk to find a scene he never would have wished upon anyone, Voix or glouglou.  
  
A young glouglou - well, the man supposed he was a glouglou - was sat against the tree trunk, a man’s torso held tightly in his arms. He was whispering over and over, the same verse from a vaguely familiar song. As the farmer abandoned his sack of sunflower seeds to approach him, he realised that the glouglou was holding the body of a Voix.  
  
It was a scene he would not wish upon anyone, but it was also a scene he had never expected to see in his life.  
  
“Afternoon,” the man said unsurely, clearing his throat. The glouglou looked up, blinking slowly. His mouth remained firmly closed. “Need a hand?”  
  
The glouglou looked down to the Voix and back up again, giving a small shrug. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
  
“Well,” the man frowned, arms folded across his chest as he studied the bizarre scene. “You look parched. Come back up to the farm - Mavis’ll fix you both up a drink and something to eat.”  
  
“I don’t think he’s very hungry,” the glouglou said. He looked back down at the black-haired Voix, shaking him lightly for a moment. The body remained still, eyes closed. “Thank you for your help, but I--”  
  
“Where did you come from?” the man asked abruptly.  
  
“St. Pierre. I’m looking for a cottage,” the glouglou explained, and the man could tell by the way that he said it that he wasn’t talking about real estate. He was talking about a safehouse.  
  
“The only cottage I know of isn’t that far from here. You’re nearly there.” The man tried a smile, rubbing his bristled chin. “Listen, son, you look dead on your feet. Please let me get you at least a drink of water.”  
  
“I just want to be alone,” the glouglou said shortly. “Thank you,” he added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
The questions began to build up in the silence between them, but the man knew that he was going to get no more information from the glouglou - who, now that he thought about it, looked old past his years. He gave one last look to the Voix, who didn’t seem to be breathing, and sighed.  
  
“Well, good luck, then. With... whatever it is that you’re doing.”  
  
The man shuffled slowly away, slinging the sack of sunflower seeds over his shoulder as he went, and left the glouglou and the Voix in peace.

*

“So if you have a minute, why don’t we go talk about it somewhere only we know?”  
  
Dominic had arrived at the cottage as the sun had started lowering in the sky, the heat still intense but cool enough to let him leave the shade of the tree. His lips were dry and cracked and his stomach growled, but he didn’t have time for such menial tasks now. He wanted to bury Matthew in the sunset; memories of their last night together flooding his mind, images of Matthew in the light of dusk too much to take.  
  
He continued whispering lyrics every now and then, walking around the long table in the kitchen that he had laid Matthew on. The past hour had been spent smartening up Matthew’s appearance and washing away the blood he could see. Dominic had removed the dagger but had haphazardly sewn up the rip in Matthew’s t-shirt immediately, unwilling to look at the wound that killed his partner.  
  
The one he himself had administered.  
  
Dominic had found a small patch of flowers outside the back door of the cottage, picking them and placing them in Matthew’s cold hands. It would’ve made a lovely home, he decided. He would perhaps stay the night, saying a final prayer in the morning before walking back to St Pierre.  
  
Maybe the Voix would be angry enough to end his life, too.  
  
As Dominic began mumbling the song again, a numbness tainting his words, he rearranged the daisies in Matthew’s hands. He hadn’t yet dug the grave, and turned to leave the kitchen to do it when he was sure he heard a noise.  
  
His head whipped around to where Matthew lay on the table, but of course the corpse was still. As Dominic’s hand touched the door handle, he most certainly heard a noise.  
  
He hurried back to Matthew’s body, a small miracle blossoming before his eyes as he saw the small chest rise and fall, a wheeze echoing in the silent room. Dominic’s mouth dropped open, taking Matthew’s face in his hands as he grinned.  
  
“Matthew,” Dominic whispered. “You’re alive, oh, thank fuck you’re alive. I love you so much, I--”  
  
“Kill... me.”  
  
Dominic blinked, promptly falling silent. Matthew’s eyes opened, gripping Dominic’s shirt in both hands, crushing the flowers in the process.  
  
“Kill me, Dom!” Matthew screeched, instantly welling up and bursting into tears. His fists clenched at his hair as Dominic stood stoic, completely overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.  
  
“What?!” he asked, bewildered.  
  
“Just kill me. Properly, this time,” Matthew moaned, pulling up his t-shirt to inspect the damage of Dominic’s wound. “Putain de merde” he screamed, head smacking against the table as it fell back. “It hurts so much, Dom,” he whispered, the pain evident in his voice as he tried to convince Dom with big blue eyes. “Just cut my throat or smother me with a pillow, please, I can’t live with this.”  
  
“I’ll make you better!” Dom said suddenly, moving away from the table and ripping through the sorely empty cupboards in the kitchen. He wished he still had that rucksack of Nancy’s, with the large specialised medical kit. He gave up, pulling his own shirt over his head and bundling it against the once again bleeding wound. Matthew hissed. “You are not dying on me.”  
  
“I can’t,” Matthew hissed with a venom Dominic hadn’t heard since their early days. Dominic almost smiled.  
  
“Good, because I won’t let you,” Dominic answered back, rummaging through the sewing kit he found with one hand. There was a thread that looked thick enough to serve as suture.  
  
“Why?” Matthew asked quietly. “You’re safe now. You don’t need me,” he babbled as Dominic tried the cupboards again. He found an untouched bottle of whiskey; enough to numb pain and possibly knock Matthew out again, although that thought twisted Dominic’s stomach. “Just let me die and you can live a normal life. I’ve only ever been trouble to you... If you don’t do it, I’ll just make myself a noose, you watch.”  
  
Dominic shot Matthew a look, now ignoring him as he began to prepare his makeshift operating table. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but all of his mind was consumed with the notion to keep Matthew alive. “Have you ever considered the fact that I might need you in my life?”  
  
“You actually are a cassé. Broken in the head.” Matthew had the audacity to laugh. “Dom, I can see a carving knife there. I’ll do it myself if you don’t have the courage.”  
  
“I think you underestimate me, Matthew,” Dominic said slowly, taking a seat at Matthew’s head and pouring the whiskey into a glass. “Drink up; I’m about to make it all better.”

*

The days blurred. Matthew fell in and out of consciousness, waking only to beg for a death which Dominic would not allow. He had felt the pain of losing Matthew once, and didn’t want to ever experience that same emptiness again.  
  
He had felt purposeless: before, he had only wanted to die with Matthew. But now, he had a point. He had a reason, and despite the fact that his reason lived only to cry out in pain and plead to be killed, he simply couldn’t allow his life to become purposeless once more.  
  
So he stayed by Matthew’s side. He treated the wound as best he could, relying on the fact that Matthew would heal - he had to heal. Many a sleepless night was spent mopping the sweat from the Voix’s brow, whispering soft words of comfort and stroking the midnight black hair away from his eyes.  
  
It could have been the fifth day that Dominic finally succumbed to needed sleep. It wasn’t really that he’d done it on purpose, more that his body had forced him to close his eyes and shut out the world, even just for a few hours.  
  
He had moved Matthew to the bed, but he didn’t remember really doing it. Perched in an awkward position, as soon as Dominic had fallen asleep, he’d fallen forward, half sitting in an armchair he had dragged beside the bed and half slumped over the bed itself.  
  
Dominic slept for hours, troubled with the nightmares that Matthew would once again go somewhere he could not follow, and when he woke, he was alone in the room.  
  
Panic overwhelmed him. Matthew was not in the bed. Had someone taken him? No, it wasn’t possible - nobody knew where they’d gone, apart from his mother, Nancy and Lysander; and only Lysander knew their specific location. They wouldn’t do that to him. They wouldn’t.  
  
He stood up, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, and stumbled through the cottage, his way lit only by the early dawn sunshine. All rooms were unfamiliar - the empty bedroom, the kitchen with the bloodsoaked table... All of it was foreign, unknown. Dominic didn’t know what to do. Terrified, he spun in a wide circle.  
  
“Matthew?” he said loudly, his heart hammering in his ears. “Matthew, where are you?”  
  
“Out here,” a small, weak voice replied.  
  
Relief poured from Dominic in waves as he followed the sound of the voice, through the living room and out onto a small veranda. Matthew was standing against the fence; as Dominic neared him, he looked over his shoulder and smiled softly.  
  
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I just wanted to stand out in the open air.”  
  
Dominic shook his head mutely as he stood behind Matthew and wrapped his arms lightly around his slender waist. Matthew’s head fell against Dominic’s chest, hair tickling the underside of Dominic’s chin.  
  
“Thank you for not giving up on me,” Matthew’s voice was soft and calm. “For everything, really. Thank you.”  
  
Dominic pressed a kiss to Matthew’s pale neck, smiling against the skin. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” He paused, screwing his eyes shut as the memory of feeling the knife slide into Matthew’s stomach played over in his mind. “I’m so sorry I did that. I should have found another way.”  
  
“There was no other way,” Matthew replied firmly. “You did what you had to do, and I’ll never hold it against you. Except if I need to get you to do something for me.” He grinned, turning to nuzzle against Dominic’s neck. “You got all tanned,” he mumbled, rubbing Dominic’s arms lightly.  
  
“Walking for hours in the sun will probably give anyone a tan. Except you. You’re still white as a sheet.”  
  
“I expect that’ll be because of the blood I lost,” Matthew said wisely. He sighed, laying his head on Dominic’s chest and smiling as the blond wound his arms tighter around him, pulling them closer together.  
  
Matthew brought their lips together with a gentle push, reaching up to lose his hands in Dominic’s soft hair. They kissed with slow, closed pecks, simply glad to touch each other, to be in each other’s arms. Matthew smiled, his stomach fluttering pleasantly as he felt Dominic’s hands slide from his waist, skimming over every possible inch of skin, touching as much of Matthew as he could. In turn, Matthew’s hands skipped daintily over Dominic’s back, diving under the hem of his shirt and splaying out on his heated skin. They pulled back, breaths soft and light between them, and looked at one another, lips simultaneously curling into smiles.  
  
Dominic looked into the distance. Over the crest of hills, he could vaguely see the shapes of buildings: St. Pierre. He smiled at the sight, until he squinted; he could also see several plumes of smoke.  
  
“Can you see that,” Dominic murmured, two fingers against Matthew’s chin to point his head in the right direction. “Is that... is that smoke?”  
  
Matthew made a small noise of disapproval. “St Pierre is burning and we’re responsible, but we’re not there to stop it...” He turned and looked at Dominic, with the smallest of pouts on his lips.  
  
Dominic blinked at him. “Are you mad? No, Matthew.” Matthew continued to stare at Dominic, his expression becoming more serious. “I’m not kidding, Matthew. We can’t go back.”  
  
“We’ll have to at some point, Dom,” Matthew began to argue.  
  
“We can’t--”  
  
“I have a child there, Dom,” Matthew said, hanging his head slightly. Dominic tipped his head back up, but the surprise in Dominic’s eyes was barely concealed. “Come on, you’re bright. You should’ve worked out this would’ve happened.”  
  
“If... If I’d known... I wouldn’t have taken you away. But...” Dominic faltered, unable to continue his sentence. Matthew stroked his cheek with the back of his hand in encouragement. “But I don’t want you to go back. I don’t want to go back,” he admitted in a small voice.  
  
“But your family...” Matthew said, and he knew by the look in Dominic’s eyes that was the strongest argument he could ever have offered. “We’ll have to go back, eventually.”  
  
“I know,” Dominic said, as Matthew turned once again to look out over the countryside.  
  
“And I can’t grow old with you,” Matthew murmured, Dominic nuzzling the side of his neck and pressing a delicate kiss there.  
  
“I know,” Dominic sighed, Matthew’s hand coming to rest on top of his own on the veranda railing.  
  
“But I love you.”  
  
Matthew turned around, a small smile on his lips that Dominic matched with his own. They shared a chaste kiss, Dominic holding Matthew as tight as he dared.  
  
“I know,” Dominic said with a smile, resting his chin on Matthew’s shoulder. “I love you too,” he said, as they listened to the early morning birds and watched the sun slowly rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Myself and Lauren wish to very humbly thank everyone who's ever read, drawn for, beta'd or simply been in contact with Somewhere Only We Know. This is our little baby and we're so pleased that it touched so many people's lives (for better or for worse!)
> 
> We 'interviewed' various members of the cast in a short, AU-within-an-AU which can be found [here](http://bliss-fish.livejournal.com/15208.html). It's set to take place just before the events of chapter 35.
> 
> We hope you'll continue to stick with us, because we have planned and began writing a sequel to SOWK. It's nowhere near finished and won't be ready for a long time yet, but all our characters will have final, resolute endings.
> 
> Once again thank you, for both readers back on LJ and here on AO3 :)


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